


In Mahogany Temples and Wooden Homes

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Food Sex, Friends to Lovers, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Quests, Reader request, Roleplay, Rough Sex, Trans Duck Newton, back ground danbrey, the author demonstrates her knowledge of weird american myths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Joseph and Barclay are gods, created by the goddess Sylvain to help maintain her world. But something has threatened the gods, stranding Joseph in the heavens and Barclay on the ground below. Joseph has had enough; he and his love will be together, no matter the cost.Duck Newton is a demi-god, a job with few perks and a high fatality rate. But his visits to a certain oracle make it worthwhile. He's just a little afraid of what the gods might have in store for them.
Relationships: Barclay/Agent Stern (The Adventure Zone), Indrid Cold/Duck Newton
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	1. The Gods of Mt. Kepler

On the southeast of the continent, at the top of a mountain, sits a crystal. In this crystal sits a goddess, in a deep state of concentration. This is her world, her beloved creation, and to maintain it takes tremendous effort, even for her. In the depths of the planet beneath her sits her lover and cosmic complement, The Quell, watching over the spirits of the dead.

Lower down on the mountain is the city of the gods. Most of the buildings are dark, their gleaming wooden exteriors mirrors for the moon and stars above. Some deities wander the streets, leaving a celebration or addressing a problem that cannot wait until morning. A few work best at night, their followers or domains most active in the darkness. Some never sleep, seeing such a pleasure as beneath them. 

Joseph is not awake for any of those reasons. Nor is he studying the mountain of books and scrolls behind him. He’s on the balcony of his house, staring down over the edge of the mountain. Well over a mile below him lies the town of Kepler, named for the mountain that looms above it. He has been down there too many times to count, to collect offerings and offer aid, to mingle with the other creations of Sylvain and learn their ways. It has been two years since he last set his feet there. 

His fingers grip the railing and for a moment he contemplates tipping over the edge. Hitting the ground would not kill him, he knows this, but the punishment could be far worse. 

No, if he is going to break the rules, he is going to do so thoughtfully 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Generations of mortal life earlier, Joseph stands on another balcony in a grander house in the great city of Sylvain. The other deities mingle and flit about him like fish in a sea. Both fish and sea are relatively new concepts to him. 

The gathering was called by Sylvain, for now that the world below was populated by mortal creatures who could look after themselves, the gods had less need to be scattered to the winds and could get to know each other. As they went about helping Sylvain build the world, they found areas in which they excelled, and the goddess burst into a radiant grin as she told the pantheon they could claim those areas of skill as their own. 

Joseph is one of the newer gods, just now understanding how he fits into the order of the world. To his surprise it’s Dani, the goddess of all growing things who draws him aside to speak. Her dress is every shade of green at once, and flowers keep appearing in her wheat-colored hair. She plucks them as she talks, and where they drop to the floor they take root. 

“Janelle says you’re the one who made the beastiary.”

“Yes” he brightens, “I’m very proud of it.”

“My wife says to tell you she has a new addition. Come on, she has it just over here.” 

“Um, are you sure that’s a good idea?” As they cross the rosy pink tile of the floor, he scans the room for any signs of the creature. Joseph, like many of the gods, resembles the humans who came to being shortly after him. His bestiary records the beings first made by Sylvain; gougers and splintercats, satyrs, hellbenders, and many more besides. Many of those children who now call themselves "Sylphs", live and thrive on the world below. Some are members of the pantheon, just as he is. But humans and gods alike still find them alarming, mysterious. He catalogues them in hopes of easing those fears.

That being said, he’s not about to bring one onto the mountain and into a crowd, That’s asking for trouble. 

“Trust me” Dani smiles over her shoulder, “this one can’t do much harm. I’d keep an eye on your pants though.”

“Wh-”

“Ta dah!” A wiggling, snuffling nose fills his vision, though the owner of said nose is not the one speaking to him. 

“Oh, hello there.” He runs his fingers through the soft, white fur of a rabbit the size of a house-cat, that sports rams horns just in front of it’s ears, “what are you?”

“He’s a Jackalope.” The goddess holding the creature pulls it back to her chest, allowing Joseph to finally get a good look at her. Her pants and shirt are black, as is her curly hair, and all three have flashes of fiery red and orange criss-crossing them. She’s cooing at the jackalope, rubbing its nose as it nibbles a strawberry from Dani’s palm.

“I’ve never heard of those.”

“That’s because I just made them! Dr. Harris Bonkers is special, though, because his horns aren’t all pointy. I didn’t want him to, like, impale my thigh when he’s begging for food.”

Joseph can’t decide if he’s more surprised that she can create a living being, something only Sylvain is capable of, or that she opted to make something so comical.

“I’m Aubrey, by the way. Goddess of fire, light, and” she wiggles her eyebrows, “passion.” 

Dani giggles, coating half the floor in tiny red flowers. 

“And I guess I’m also the goddess of jackalopes now? I think that’s how it works. I was already the patron of orphans and strays, but I think this is sorta different. Right, doctor?”

“Right” the jackalope parrots back in a perfect imitation of her voice.

“Incredible.” Joseph murmurs, “may I see him?” 

“Sure!” Aubrey hands him off and, after a moment of squirming, the animal deigns to let Joseph touch his horns. 

“Did you teach him to talk?”

“Nope. Right now he can only mimic, but I didn’t teach him that either.”

“Sylvain always says once you make a being, you can’t control what it does or who it becomes.” Dani takes her wife’s hand, resting her head on her shoulder. Her golden eyes skim the room and she straightens, waving.

“Barclay! Over here!”

“Who’s-”

The rest of the room, the building, the very mountain disappears in that moment. All Joseph sees is the god walking towards them. He has dark brown hair and a short beard, with veins of copper in each, and they frame the most handsome face ever made. He’s taller than Joseph, broader too, but he radiates gentleness in spite of his size. He’s smiling, no doubt at the two goddesses behind Joseph, the expression the most breathtaking sight Josephs seen since he came into being. He will do anything to have Barclay smile at him that way. 

More laughter behind him, and he turns to see Aubrey and Dani trading a mischievous look. 

“Hey you two” Barclay gathers them both into a hug, “Jake said you had a new addition to the family.”

“Right there” Aubrey points at Joseph.

Barclay turns, registers him for the first time, and goes perfectly still. Deep brown eyes glide along his body, and Joseph’s never been happier to be perceived in his life. 

“Wow.” Barclay whispers. 

“I, um, she’s talking about Dr. Harris Bonkers. The jackalope” Joseph tips his head to indicate the animal. 

“Oh! Oh, uh, right. Awwww” Barclay bends down, scratching the rabbit behind the ears, “hey little guy.”

That gentle baritone is right in his ear, strong hands are inches from his fingers, and Joseph worries he may swoon and drop the poor jackalope on the floor. 

“Yeah, he’s a charmer.” Dani smirks, lifting the jackalope away from Joseph, “and we promised we’d let Jake get a look at him. Be right back.” She and Aubrey give twin waves as they move away from the fireplace. It’s just him and Barclay now, alone and still close enough to touch. 

“Uh” Barclay steps back.

“Um.” Joseph does the same, tears apart the room of his mind for his words and finally finds them, “so, um, what are you the god of?”

“Food and cooking. And, uh, hospitality I think. That one’s newer, but whenever people are having big gatherings or guests they leave me offerings so things will go smoothly. I help when I can but, uh, food is really my favorite of the things I do.” He smiles, “you look surprised.”

“I, um, I assumed based on your build that you were the god of blacksmithing or something.”

“I mean, if we’re going off first impressions, I’d say you’re the god of beauty.” Barclay’s voice takes on a rumble.

“Well played” Joseph sips his wine with a smirk, “I’m nothing so exciting. I’m the god of curiosity and research. Knowledge seeking as opposed to Janelle’s knowledge...having. Kind of frivolous when compared to something as essential for living beings as food.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Joseph. I give humans and Sylphs basic ingredients, or I give them the general idea of how to make bread. But most of the food they come up with? Is because they’re curious, like you. They trade ideas, try new things, it’s incredible to watch. I learn from _them_ as much as they learn from me.” Barclay’s eyes glitter, then he spots something across the room and the spark disappears.

Joseph can’t bear its' loss. He takes a half step closer, Barclay mirroring him, “Tell me some of what you learned?”

“Only if you tell me what you’re researching now.”

“Deal.” He brings his glass to his lips, finds it empty.

“Let me get that.” Barclay waves his hand over the rim and bright orange, bubbling liquid fills it to the top. It tastes like sun-ripened oranges and ginger. 

“It’s delicious.”

Barclay smiles, “Thanks, made it just for you.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

His thoughts are far more orderly tonight than they were at that gathering, but their purpose is the same. He does everything with the lights out, not willing to risk drawing attention to the house. An adversary might try to stop him. So might a friend. 

Uncertainty requires an extra degree of preparation, and so his inventory takes half the night to finalize. When it’s all squared away in his rucksack and long coat, it contains the following:  
-Three days worth of clothes; he can make more or buy them once he reaches Kepler.   
-Food for the same amount of time. Can he starve? No, but he’s learned the hard way he gets scatterbrained when hungry.  
-The most recent map of Kepler and the surrounding mountains.  
-Guides to the following: edible plants, dangerous animals, human customs.  
-Money left as offerings by his followers.   
-A woven bracelet, sun-worn and tucked in the breast pocket of his back coat. 

On the off chance someone comes looking for him, he leaves a note on the wood of the front door. The moonlight fills in the letters as he makes his way towards the highway of the sun that will take him down to the world. 

Gone on a mission.   
-J

\-----------------------------------------------------------

The cities of Sylphs and humans progress at a remarkable pace. From the front of his small tent (he created it to blend in with the other visitors) he watches them decorate an elaborate wooden temple while smoke and laughter drift from the sturdy, square homes dotting the clearing. It feels like barely any time has passed since they were working out where to build their city. 

He’s never been to the Festival of the Two moons, but he knows it’s to celebrate the harvest and start preparations for winter. So he sits on a cushion, taking copious notes on the situation.

A crunch of drying grass announces a visitor.

“Learning anything interesting?” Barclay grins as he crouches down; he's in a deep bronze shirt with a black wrap from his waist down to his knees. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” The amount of joy in his voice is embarrassing. 

“And miss out on one of the best parties of the year? No way.” The god sits on the ground across from him, “are you researching something new? Or is this part of the human travel patterns thing you were telling me about?”

“No, Hayes is asking me to report back on how mortals behave when talking about us.”

Barclays lips quirk down, “huh.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not learning anything bad. It’s just important for us to know what’s going on.”

“I mean there’s knowing and there’s _knowing_. Have you, uh, actually done any of the stuff you write about?"

“....Some? But a lot of it is theoretical or based on the accounts of others. It’s not always easy to study mortals when you’re a god.” 

“You already look the part, just turn down the glow a bit. Like I have.”

He concentrates, dims his radiant energy down so that anyone looking at him will see, at most, a faint heat haze. 

“There we go.” Barclay holds out his hand, “c’mon, let’s do some, uh, hands on learning.”

Joseph tucks his notebook into his pocket, following him into the fall air. From the corner of his eye he sees Dani moving through a throng of dancers, Aubrey laughing in her arms. Envy and worry bloom in his heart. 

“How often do you do this? Just...spend time down here.”

“A lot.” 

“Doesn’t it get in the way of what we’re supposed to be doing?”

“No? Joseph” Barclay turns, resting his hands on the other gods shoulders, “there’s nothing wrong with mingling with mortals, or exploring this world without some higher goal. What good is helping make and maintain a world if you don't take the time to explore it?”

“I...I guess you’re right. Sorry” He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it from his eyes. He should shorten it soon, “Hayes is very invested in order, Woodbridge too. Even Janelle and Minerva lean towards keeping things a certain way ever since Sylvain retreated to her crystal and The Quell made the underworld.”

“What about you?” Barclay draws their hands together, holding them in the dwindling space between them. 

“I think order is important, and that we have rules for a reason. But I don’t, um, I don’t think that means things should never change, for gods or for mortals. There’s so much we don’t know, so many parts of the world that elude us. Like you said, the difference between knowing and _knowing_.”

The music in the air changes tempo, still vibrant and lively but no longer the manic swirl it was. As the dancers alter their steps and patterns, he studies their feet for fear of what he might admit by looking into Barclay’s eyes. 

“Like, these dances. I’ve written about them, but I’ve never done them.”

“Do you want to?”

Joseph risks it, meets his gaze with a smile, “teach me?”

Barclay keeps his right hand in Josephs’ left, sets his free hand on Josephs’ shoulder and sets Joseph’s fingers on his waist. Then he leans down and whispers in his ear with all the playfulness of a campfire story, “Just follow my lead, blue eyes, and you’ll be fine.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a sensible pattern; walk an hour, then transport himself lower with a thought, then walk an hour more. To do the whole journey from the top of Mount Kepler to the bottom on foot would take days, and to do it in one burst of power would alert others to his plan. 

He’s low enough now that the city is a distinct set of shapes in the darkness, rather than a rough pattern glimpsed from on high. White deer graze warily along the edges of the path, the soft thuds of their hooves and munching of grass the only sound aside from his thoughts. 

Two years. They’ve cut themselves off from the world for two years, linked only by pools and mirrors and the odd, very determined falcon. Were he in a petulant mood, he’d blame the oracle. He knows some gods still curse him for the day his voice rang through the glittering halls. 

_“You’re certain?” Vincent looks up from where he kneels by the oracles pool, a perfect circle of black water through which he speaks to the seat of the gods._

_“I say only what I see. Something moves towards the mountain, its’ purpose one of destruction. If it is allowed to set foot on the stones of Mount Kepler, disaster will follow.”_

_“We have enough power, even without the great mothers , to cast a barrier spell. Would that work?” Janelle stands behind Vincent as Woodbridge and Hayes exchange determined looks._

_Silence, then “Yes. But that alone is not enough.” The oracle taps his fingertips together, “Ah, this threat will not go away overnight. It will keep trying to harm you. Any barrier would need to stay up for quite some time."_

_“Then we put the barrier now, and make it so nothing, mortal or divine, can pass through it without facing a great and terrible consequence.” Hayes nods to the assembled pantheon._

_“But plenty of us are still down in Kepler. And, and what about offerings, about those who need our aid?” Vincent directs this question at the oracle._

_“We can still intercede.” Woodbridge waves dismissively at the water, “we can communicate and receive offerings as the oracle receives his visions and we receive his messages.”_

_“Ah, well, technically that is true, but there may be other paths that-”_

_“That is enough, seer, your work is done.”_

_“What about the others who are still down there!” Joseph can think of at least four deities who are missing, and one whose absence will break his heart._

_Hayes glares at him from beside Woodbridge, “perhaps they shouldn’t have gone so far afield in the first place.”_

_“But-”_

_“The decision is final, Joseph. With The Quell and Sylvain as they are, we must act now and place the barrier. We cannot risk our destruction for the sake of a few stragglers.”_

And so, with the others, he had drawn up the great gate and shield.

He never even got to say goodbye. In the time since the other gods were, functionally, exiled, Barclay has managed to send him several messages through messenger falcons. And once, with a great deal of effort, he passed a token through the water, a bracelet he’s worn every time they’ve met. 

“ _Something to remember me by”_

The voice was so faint in the water Joseph lay melancholy on his bed for the rest of the day. The oracle had warned them, or tried to, that the pools would not work as the assumed. It still stung. 

At last, he’s at the stone archway that once was the welcome point for the mountain and now indicates the line between the gods and the world. 

Two years of hiding behind it is long enough. He doesn’t care what happens to him if he crosses the threshold, only that doing so will let him feel two strong arms around him in the warmth and darkness of a home once again. 

It can’t kill him. Nothing can kill a god. 

All the same, he holds his breath for the two steps it takes to pass through the gate. 

The glow around him dulls, his legs shake, and when he tries to create a log to sit down on, nothing happens. 

Nothing can kill a god.

But it can make him mortal. 

\------------------------------------------------------

Many miles away, a shift in the futures of the gods jars the oracles from his daydreams of man. 

“Oh, _fuck_.”


	2. His Kiss

_“When you said dinner, I assumed we’d be in town.” They’re on a mountain range, far, far, far from the nearest mortal settlement. As they’re on the rain shadow side of the slope, the view is that of vast, scrubby desert, sand going pink and golden in the evening light. Laid out at their feet is a thick, wool blanket, covered in baskets and pails with two goblets and two mugs set at the center._

_“There’s more, uh, privacy up here. I’d rather people not ask too many questions about how I got food from six different regions all in one place.”_

_“And a place with fewer people means less chance of another deity looking in on us?”_

_“Like I said.” Barclay sits down, conjuring two large, silver trays with sections of varying sizes._

_“Do you really think they’re out to get you?”_

_“Kind of? I don’t know, it’s like they’re afraid of what I might do if I get too far out of sight. And it’s not just being a Sylph god that’s a problem; they talk about Aubrey the same way. I think Hayes and Woodbridge see the connection between the ground and the mountain as dangerous.”_

_“The world is changing so rapidly, I think a lot of them are afraid of what they don’t understand.”_

_Barclay says nothing, opens a basket and removes a jar of deep purple jelly._

_“I mean, it’s absurd. We’re gods, we have greater access to understanding than anyone else, but they just...won’t. They think there are certain things that need to be done to keep everyone safe.”_

_“And you don’t?”_

_“Barclay, please, can’t we talk about this later?” His heart tightens in his chest; every time they go down this line of questioning he feels like he never gives the right answer._

_A sigh, Barclays’ muscles relaxing and his polite expression turning to one of genuine happiness, “Okay. Pleasant topics only, blue eyes, on one condition” He pats the blanket next to him, “you stop being so far away.”_

_“You drive a hard bargain.” He crawls across the blanket, sitting cross legged as the god opens the nearest basket, “Do you really think we can eat all this?”_

_“Probably not, but when you told me you wanted to try the food I like best I, uh, kinda went overboard. But hey, perk of being the god of food is that I can keep things from spoiling. We can finish it off the next time. Here, try these” he pulls out two rolls, one deep brown and one golden, “they’re good with the redthorn jam. Ooh, and try this with the moon plums” he sets a bright orange cheese on the tray, “they’re doing such interesting things with cheese. They’ve figured out how to use mold to flavor some of it. Mold! It’s incredible.” He slices off a piece, eats it, and lets out a deep, soft sigh, “incredible.”_

_Joseph’s inclined to agree._

_Barclay fills their glasses, the mug with deep red, spiced red wine and the goblets with the same mixture of orange and ginger he always makes for Joseph._

_“Oh, watch this.” He taps the goblets and the liquid bursts with little bubbles, “it makes it fizzy. Mortals haven’t figured it out yet, and I’m not sure how you do it without magic, so they’re on their own.”_

_As the meal continues, Barclay tells him about how mortals have discovered ways to smoke food, how he and Dani have dropped hints to new ways of crossbreeding fruits, and how one bakery he frequents disguised as a mortal is now teasingly referring to him as their chief patron._

_“What would happen if you told them you actually are?”_

_“They’d probably freak out. A lot of people assume that if a god is visiting it’s to test or punish them.”_

_“Odd, given how much time gods like you and Aubrey spend around them”_

_“That’s one to take up with Woodbridge.” Barclay grumbles, then remembers their agreement and shifts gears, “hand pie?”_

_Joseph takes the packet of dough, sets his free hand atop Barclay’s as sweet, acidic cherries spill over his tongue. By the time they’ve sampled six kinds of meat, from one glazed with hot honey to one stewed in cream, tomato, and a dozen spices, mushrooms, fruit of every shade, and more breads and pastries than Joseph can count, they declare defeat and shut the baskets. For awhile they talk of nothing and everything, from Joseph’s latest research and Barclay’s musings on yeast, Barclays’ head in Joseph’s lap all the while._

_“Uh, Joseph? There’s, uh, there’s another reason I wanted to do this somewhere private. I” he shuts his eyes, “I want to show you my Sylph form.”_

_“Really?” He takes his hand from where it’s been carding patterns in copper-streaked hair. Barclay told him he was a Sylph-god close to a century ago, but never spoke of it after. That didn’t stop Joseph from wondering about his non-human form._

_Barclay sits up, eyes still closed, breaths coming slow. One inhale, one exhale, and then Joseph is looking at someone new; the figure is at least a head and half taller than him, it’s all body covered in short, dark fur. Fingers end in claws and ears end in points, and while the face is relatively the same it’s not until kind, brown eyes open that Joseph fully believes what he’s seeing._

_“What, uh, what do you think?”_

_He thinks he’s captivating, perfect, breathtaking. He thinks he’s probably staring. He thinks about what this means._

_Carefully, Joseph shifts so he’s almost in Barclays’ lap, brings his hands up to stroke his cheeks._

_“I think I like you just as much in this form as in the other.” With that he leans in, kissing him once. It’s gentle and inelegant, as he’s never done it before. When he pulls back, he hides his face in the crook of Barclay’s neck, unwilling to separate from him but nervous to look at his face._

_“Joseph?” Barclay’s arms encircle his shoulders._

_“I...I can't believe you trust me enough to show me this part of you. I wanted to show you a, um, a part of me I’d been hiding.”_

_“You mean the fact you’ve got a crush on me?” The warmth in his voice puts the sunset to shame._

_Joseph’s head snaps up, “you knew?”_

_“Uh, I, uh, I kinda thought you might. But I also figured you would have made a move sometime in the last century if I was right.”_

_“I thought about it, but every time we started to flirt more intensely, there’d be a moment where you pulled back. That made me nervous to tell you, I was worried I’d overstep.”  
“Trust me, babe, you’re not.” Barclay nuzzles his cheek._

_“That’s a relief--wait, what did you call me?”_

_Even with the fur, Barclay is clearly blushing, “Babe. I, uh, I picked it up from some humans. Sorry, not the most dignified thing to call one of the gods of knowledge.”_

_“I like it.” He crawls full on into his lap, “Normally I’d hate it, but I like how it sounds in your voice.”_

_“Oh yeah?” a growl enters Barclays voice, “wanna find out if you like some, uh, other things I have to say?”_

_Joseph pushes him onto his back, kisses hotter than the sand below and sweeter than anything in Barclay’s baskets, “What kind of god of research would I be if I didn’t?”_

\---------------------------------------------------------

Joseph wakes up with a groan; opting to sleep in a tree was logical in terms of safety, but his make-shift hammock seems to have pulled his limbs in the most painful directions during the night. And the summer heat never abated, so he’s soaked in sweat. After getting to the ground in one piece, a bath is in order.

He follows his map towards an offshoot of the Greenbriar River, feet still sore from yesterday. Loss of divine powers has slowed his journey, and in his foul mood he wonders if Barclay will even be in Kepler after all this. If he isn’t, divine powers or not Joseph may let out a frustrated scream loud enough to break windows. 

It’s cooler by the river, and he sighs as he slips his bare feet into the shallow water on the banks edge. Fish flicker in and out of view as he undoes his shirt. As he reaches for his belt, they all scatter. He’s going to guess the massive shadow from the other bank is the cause. 

“Please be a mortal, please be a mortal.” 

The chimera across the river blinks at him. 

“Damn it.”

The creature has a serpentine head and body, deep brown wings, scaled yellow feet and a tail that, if he remembers correctly, is prehensile. It’s one of several species of chimera, a type called a Snallygaster by locals. The comedic name is at odds with the razor sharp talons and the beak filled with knife-sized teeth that it clacks at Joseph. 

He knows he can’t out run it, and that once a Snallygaster selects a target it’s nigh unshakeable, meaning his best bet is to fight. Easier said than done, since he didn’t bring a weapon. The beast is still sizing him up, cocking it’s head this way and that. If it keeps clacking its beak or ignores him, he’ll be fine. If it hisses, he’s fucked. 

A raspy hiss cuts through the air, yellow eyes locked onto him. 

“Shit.” He glances side to side in hopes of spotting an improvised weapon. Nothing, not even a decent sized stick. 

“Alright now, there ain’t no need for that.” 

He and his attacker look up the creek at the same time. On the monster’s side, standing on a rock, is a human as unarmed as Joseph but far less afraid. 

“There’s plenty of fish and deer in these woods, Jackalopes and Hellbenders too. No need for you to go after some fella who’s tryin to take a bath.”

To Joseph’s shock, the chimera seems to consider the human’s words. Then it launches itself forward on powerful wings, grabbing him in it’s beak, hurling him across the water and into a tree-trunk.

“Owfuck.” The human stands, whipping off his belt, which turns to sword as Joseph watches. 

“Yeeeeees, yeeees, at last we shall taste the blood of a foe.” 

“Shut up, Beacon.”

The Snallygaster hisses again, charging across the river. Joseph dives out of the way, landing in the water. By the time he surfaces, the monster’s head is laying several feet from it’s lifeless body. 

“You okay man?” The human, sword once again a belt, helps him to his feet.

“Yes, thank you. Just a bit shaken.”

“Gotta be careful out in this part of the forest; it’s wilder, more creatures are willin to tangle with a human than run away.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He goes to magic himself dry, groans when he realizes he can’t.

“Hey, at least you’ll be cool come the afternoon heat.” the human sizes him up, “you don't have a weapon?”

“No.”

“Eeesh, okay, I hate using ‘em but you gotta have at least a staff when you’re out here.”

“I know” Joseph snaps, “I wasn’t born yesterday, I just had a run of bad luck.”

“Okay, okay, no need to get riled up. Where you headin?”

“Kepler.” He empties his bag onto a semi-flat rock to confirm nothing got washed away.

“If you want, and you don’t mind a detour, you can travel with me.”

“What’s the detour?”

“Temple of Gowinbane.” The human tries to hide a smile. 

“Don’t people usually consult the Oracle _before_ a quest?”

“Yeah, but there ain’t no rule says you can’t see him after and let him know the beast he foresaw attackin the next village is dead.”

“I...I suppose there isn’t.” He’s never pictured the Oracle in any state but giving or receiving a vision. One would assume someone who could see the future would not need reassurance that a certain danger was gone. 

“Plus it, uh, it uh, gives us a place to stay the night.”

“I’m in.” He holds out his hand, “And you can call me Joseph.”

“Nice to meet you, Joseph, I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

He wants to say that it’s far from the strangest nickname he’s heard, but doing so would reveal the time a half a century ago when he met someone called Juice. 

They set off through the trees, and it’s not long before the thick canopy of deep green gives way to chartreuse and silver. 

“Huh” Duck pauses, taking a silver, three-pointed leaf between his fingers, “they’re changin early this year. Must be those cooler days that keep randomly appearin.”

“Why is this patch of forest so different?”

“Goin theory is there’s a vein of weird soil from gods know what keep of geological activity in the past. These are the kinds of trees that can handle it.” The human picks his way over a log. He must know this path well, he’s not stopping at all to check his bearings. 

Farther on, Duck points into the hollow of a nearby Fireoak, “There’s a star-eared owl in there, see?”

Joseph peers, then jumps back slightly when orange eyes spin to regard him. 

“How’d you see it with its eyes closed? It looks like part of the tree.”

“They usually nest around here, and I know how to spot their feathers against the bark.”

“Are you sure you aren’t supposed to be a forest steward instead of a hero?”

Duck stops, expression flashing from surprise to frustration before settling on casual resignation, “Depends on who you ask. All I wanted to do was be a forest steward. Next thing I know I’m gettin visits from Minerva telling me I’m a demi-god.”

“I didn’t think she’d had children recently.”

“She hasn’t. Or, uh, guess if she has I ain;t one of ‘em. She’s just my patron. Bestowed these powers on me when I turned eighteen and my destiny is to be a hero and save the whole damn world.”

“Most people would be excited at that prospect.” Joseph raises an eyebrow. 

“The prospect of what? Dyin’ young? Get maimed by some giant monster? Not bein’ able to have an normal fuckin life because you’re always bracin for the next quest?”

“I was thinking more things like being thrown by a chimera and getting up without a scratch.”

“I got scratches, they just don't hurt much.” Duck grumbles, staring up at the sky, “I know I oughta be grateful. I know lots of folks’d kill to be favored by the gods. But I ain’t always sure the gods are lookin out for us. Older folks say they ain’t as active as they used to be. And if you ask me, seems like they’re a little too willin to turn people into fate’s playthings.”

Joseph is ready to argue that lots of the gods are doing their best and also sometimes they have their own problems to deal with. Duck;s next words stun the argument and it drops out of his mind. 

“Eh, at least I kept that whole destiny thing at bay for fifteen years.”

“You resisted Minerva’s demands for _fifteen years_?!” Joseph knows the goddess of warriors and battle strategy does not give up without a fight. Which means the human before him is incredibly brave, stubborn, or both. There is also no way he's telling him he's a god himself. He wants Duck to trust him. 

“Yep. Got to be a forest steward too. Truth be told, only picked up heroin’ because some friends needed help. Little easier to justify runnin around and gettin attacked when it’s to keep the folks I care about safe.”

“But this one was for the sake of the Oracle.”

Duck smiles as he starts down the trail once more, “like I said.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

_“Welcome, Duck Newton. You wish to destroy the Ozark Howler that has been threatening Kepler.” The Oracle sits cross-legged by the dark pool. The floor around him is littered with drawings, and his white linen shirt and loose grey pants are smudged with ink. He’s smiling, so wide it’s alarming, and does so the entire time they converse._

_“Yep.” Duck studies his reflection in the seers red glasses, “oh, uh, here, brought you this as an offerin.” He sets a small pouch of coins on the floor between them._

_“That will suffice. If you wish to keep the Howler from attacking a caravan of travelers, you should head for the Spinecone grove. You have twenty minutes.”_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_“Back again?” The Oracle looks up from his drawing when Duck sits down_

_“Uh huh, askin you for help made things way easier on us. We agreed it was worth whatever we had to pay to have that kind of help. Got a Gumberoo that tries maul anythin it sees.”_

_A silver-haired head tilts, “You have one in your company who uses fire, correct?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“Her attacks will cause the beast to explode, provided the rest of you distract it long enough.”_

_“Good to know. Here” he sets a larger pouch on the ground, “we weren’t sure how much it’d be.”_

_The Oracle’s smile dims, “You, ah, do you know why I require payment? It is not because I am greedy; it is because this is my sole means of making my living.”_

_“Don’t your patron provide for you?”  
A soft snort, “Does yours?”_

_“No, but I figure she knows I got other work that keeps a roof over my head. If you ain’t allowed to anythin but be a seer-”_

_“-then he ought to help me? For as long as there have been seers, the arrangement is that we have the temple to live in and the gift of our powers to support ourselves. Since most who consult me are one-time visitors, I must ask for large sums in case it is awhile until the next one comes. But if, if you and your friends wish for my aid on a regular basis…” he pushes the pouch back to Duck._

_“Hold on, you just said this was your only way of keepin fed and clothed.” Duck opens the pouch, pulling out two gold coins. But the seer crosses his arms and turns his face away._

_“There is a far-off king coming by tomorrow, he’ll pay me a great deal.”_

_“Don’t feel right, not giving you somethin for your visions.”_

_“I did not accept this gift of foresight for my own gain. I did it to prevent disaster and pain when I can. I...I just want to help.” His voice is softer than the moonlight shining through the wide windows._

_Duck itches to reach forward and press the coins into his hand. Instead, they clink-clink back into the bag._

_“Okay.”_

_\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_They’ve heard enough whispers of trouble that Duck decides to go to the Oracle early, and the morning light hasn’t even broken as he steps into the temple. Instead of the usual, lilting “welcome,” there’s echoing silence. He walks further into the building, calling out hellos until he finds a back door. Opening it, he steps onto a stone pathway leading up to small cottage. It’s made of the same red-brown wood as the temple, and there's smoke coming up from the chimney. He knocks, and the door creaks forward on loose hinges. In the shadows of a dying fire sits the seer, knees to his chest and a shaky, pinched cry emanating from him._

_“You, uh, you need some help?”_

_An angular face whips up to regard him, glowing red eyes widening with every second, “No, nono, I, I am sorry, I, I did not foresee your arrival. Ah, just, just let me-”_

_“Whoah, hold on” Duck kneels, “you don’t gotta rush on my account. I just got a little worried when I couldn’t find you.”_

_“Worried? You, you mean you are not angry with me?” The seer wipes a damp sleeve under his nose. Duck reaches into his coat, offering him a handkerchief._

_“Why would I be angry with you? You got as much right to rest as anyone.”_

_“That is seldom seen as the case. Gods forbid I am not able to deliver a prophecy at the exact moment someone needs one, that is almost as great an insult as when I deliver a bad one. Never mind that the bad visions I share are but a fraction of the ones I see, the ones I am never able to stop, the, the…” He spins away from Duck, “I, that was rude of me, I should not complain so.”_

_“Hey, you wanna bellyache about gifts from the gods, I’m your man.”_

_No response other than the Oracle blowing his nose._

_“If you’re upset by somethin that’s comin, is it something that we can stop?”_

_“No. Tonight, there is going to be a great fire in Huntington. I have tried to reach the few there who have access to sacred water” he flips a hand towards a basin on the table, full of the same jet-black water as the pool in the temple, “and I am not allowed to leave the temple for more than a few hours. I cannot get there in time to warn them.”_

_“What if I went? I can make it there before tonight with time to spare.”_

_“Even then, there are high odds you will fail.”_

_“Don’t mean I can’t try.”_

_“Please” The Oracle looks over his shoulder, and all the alien aspects of his face come together into something stunning. Duck awkwardly scoots and crawls, sets his hands on his shoulders._

_“Oracle, or uh, mister seer? Fuck, what’s the right thing to call you-”_

_“Indrid” Bony fingers grip his arms, “my name is Indrid.”_

_“Indrid” Duck repeats, a secret, a prayer, and an oath all in one, “we’re gonna stop this thing. I promise.”_

_\----------------------------------------------------------------------_

_“You didn’t have to come all this way.”_

_“I wanted to” Indrid settles on a fallen log, “I, ah, I wanted to thank you for your help with the fire. And, since you are about to say it, I am aware I could have done so the next time you visited. But I wanted to be in the woods for a few hours. You speak so lovingly of them. Of course, if I am bothering you I can-”_

_Duck sits down next to him, smiling when the seer scoots closer “Happy to have the company.”_

_\----------------------------------------------------------------_

_“A….hands-deer? I must say that’s unexpected.”_

_“You’re tellin me. Damn thing keeps kidnappin people. We can usually catch up to it in time, but I’m real sick of chasin the damn thing down.”_

_“It may take a few minutes for me to sort through the futures, but I should be able to come up with something.”_

_“Great. Fuck, wait, what’s the price this time.” While Indrid will not take large amounts from Duck or other members of the Pine Guard, they’ve settled on him asking for small fee so nobody feels like they’re taking advantage._

_Indrid turns slowly, bites his lip, “A, ah, a kiss?”_

_“Like the idea of one, or between two specific folks…?”_

_“From you to me.” Indrid’s usually animated arms are locked to his sides._

_“O-kay.” Every strange glance Indrid’s given him, every night they’ve spent talking until moonset, every time Duck’s heart aches to come to the temple even thought their’s no trouble suddenly come together into the most perfect picture._

_“Of, of course if the ideal is truly unpleasant to you, we can decide on another form of payment.”_

_“You usually don’t negotiate these so much.” He teases as he sidles closer, “and there ain't no need to this time. Happy to give you what you asked.” Duck brushes silver hair aside, “payment due now or when I get back?”_

_“Whichever you prefer.”_

_Duck’s seen Indrid speak with his patron, seen him discourse with gods. In all that time, he’s never looked so hopeful or so frightened._

_Gently, he cups Indrid’s chin and guides their lips together. Indrids’ body stays stiff, but eager noises slip from his mouth. Even as he deepens the kiss, his tongue remains firmly behind his teeth._

_Duck pulls back enough to take in his full face, the blush creeping up his cheeks and the joy in his eyes, and decides the quest can wait a few minutes._

_The second kiss takes the seer by surprise, his hands breaking loose and gripping the front of Duck’s coat. The hero steadies him with a hand on his back, splays his fingers across the base of his neck to hold him close._

_“You” Indrid’s voice and breath shake when they break apart, “you do not need to give more than one.”_

_“That your way of tellin me you don’t want another?”_

_“No, nono, I do, badly, but you are not obligated to give it. I should count myself lucky my gambit worked at all.”_

_“What I wanna know” Duck tightens his fingers in Indrid’s hair to keep him grounded, “is why you thought that was the only way to get me to kiss you.”_

_“Have you seen yourself lately? More relevantly, have you seen me?”_

_“I’m seein you right now.”_

_Indrid snickers, “Then you, you really want-”_

_Duck cuts him off with another kiss and this time Indrid moves, wrapping his arms around him and mapping their mouths against each other._

_“You” Indrid pants as they stop for air, “I mean we should get to work on that plan. You all will need to move on the beast tonight.”_

_“Whatever you say, darlin, just as long as you promise you’ll be waitin for me when we’re through.”_

_Indrid rests their foreheads together, “Whenever you need me, Duck Newton, you will find me. I will always wait for you. Indeed, I think I have been waiting for you a long, long time.”_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sticky midday heat has faded to a slightly less grueling evening heat by the time a familiar pair of Lapis Lark songs tear Duck from his reminiscing. These birds tweet angrily at anyone who passes their nest. A nest which happens to be right before a certain temple. 

“Whelp, here we are.” He sweeps his hand out, showing Joseph the gleaming, slanted roof of the temple catching the sun in a way that, were Duck paying attention to it, would be breathtaking. But all Duck sees is a lone figure standing at the door, waiting for him.


	3. Lovers Desire

“I take it your quest was successful.” The Oracle smiles at them as they approach the A-frame structure, it’s windows reflecting the beauty of the summer evening. Instead of bowing or another differential gesture, Duck walks straight up to where the other man leans in the doorway. 

“Yep, that thing won’t be causing anyone any trouble. Had to slay it though.”

“Oh dear.”

“It was that or let it make breakfast outta a traveler. Speakin of, this here is Joseph. He’s headed for Kepler, figured it’d be safer goin’ as a pair. Joseph, may I present the Oracle of Gowinbane.”

The Oracle, with obvious reluctance, tears his bespectacled gaze from the hero. There’s a fraction of a moment where shock colors his face. Then it resolves into a mask of mundane pleasantness. 

“Since you are traveling with Duck, you may call me Indrid. I foresee two separate parties requesting my aid tonight, so I may not be the most, ah, attentive host.” He turns back to Duck, “I’m sorry, I wanted us to have a pleasant evening, but I forget that summer is questing season for many.”

“No need to apologize” Duck touches Indrid’s cheek, “I can handle gettin myself and Joseph settled for the night.”

Indrid nods, let’s them pass into the entryway of the temple. It’s the same polished wood as the outside, the sloping walls and empty floor cold even in the summer heat. As they head towards the hall, he feels Indrid studying him. But when he turns, the seer simply smiles. 

The first room on the left of the hall is the seers chamber, the black pool and the blanket of red satin on the floor where Indrid receives visitors. Further down are two small bedrooms, for travelers who must rely on the hospitality of the seer before their journey. The last rooms are a washroom and a small kitchen. It’s this last room Duck steers them into, telling Joseph to have a seat while he rustles up dinner. 

“Let’s see, looks like fruit and cheese mostly, oh, huh, someone must’ve brought him this as an offerin. That was nice.” Duck holds up a basket of golden-skinned peaches and blue plums, turns his attention to the icebox, “got water, wine, some berry phosphate, and eggnog.”

“Wine is fine. And I thought eggnog was for the colder months?”

“Usually is, but a friend in town makes it for him all year because he likes it so much. Here you go.” He sets the glass down, goes looking through the cabinets as voices down the hall announce the arrival of lord something or other entreating Indrid for his help. 

“Good, still some honeycomb in here. He’ll like that after two visits back to back.” Duck murmurs into the pantry.

“You’re in love with him.”

Duck jolts upright, banging his head into a shelf, then recovers, “Yeah, I am. And he’s in love with me. You’re pretty observant for someone who forgot to take a weapon into the woods.”

“I’ve been known to spot things others don’t. But also, you’re not subtle. Most people wouldn’t dare touch a seer.”

“Why? He ain’t a venomous snake or somethin. He’s just a fella with some special powers. He ain’t married to the gods, and there ain’t no rule that says he can’t have a kiss now and then.”

“And if there was?” Joseph remembers the old, old, old days where seers were kept isolated and celibate. 

“Then fuck it. ‘Drid deserves comfort and affection, same as anyone else. I’m just lucky he wants me to give ‘em to him.” Duck looks out towards the main temple, where Indrid’s voice occasionally flits out into the hall, “Never thought someone like him could love someone like me. I’d fight the nastiest things the gods could think up for his sake. Maybe that’s a dramatic and damn naive way to feel, but love’s got a way of doin that, y’know?”

Joseph looks past Duck, into the pantry full of food, evidence of centuries of a certain someone’s guiding hand, “Yes, I do.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several miles away, the Greenbriar river widens and flows into Amnesty Lake. As the town of Kepler grew, it spread from the banks, filling up the hills and valleys. Near the top of one hill, facing the lake, sits Amnesty Lodge. It’s boards have seen better days, and the windows rattle alarmingly when it storms. But anyone who passes through it’s doors will tell you it’s the finest place they’ve ever stayed. That the wayward and the lonely find comfort beside it’s fires, the tired find long needed rest in it’s beds. Some say it’s because Madeline Cobb never turns anyone away for lack of funds. Others say it’s because the goddess of warmth and fire is often seen nearby. 

The (generally secret) fact the god of hospitality lives there probably helps too. 

Said god is currently beating the living daylights out of some spices, clove and dried chilies perfuming the air with every blow. 

“You keep at it like that, gonna break another mortar and pestle.” Mama leans back on the counter nearby, and he refills her tea with a wave of his hand. 

“Sorry” he sighs, stops to examine the powder, “just...feeling on edge.”

“Missin your fella?”

“When aren’t I?”

“Usually you don’t do all the kitchen prep like the ingredients done you personal injury.”

“I sent him a message two days ago and I haven’t heard back. Joseph’s always prompt.”

“Maybe he’s busy, you said he gets absorbed in projects sometimes.”

“Maybe he’s tired of waiting for me.” Barclay tips the ground spices into a bowl of sweet, amber sauce, which he whisks as if he can batter the thought from his mind. 

“Umm, no?” Aubrey wanders in through the back door, Dr. Harris Bonkers on a red leash in front of her, “You guys were together for years before we got exiled, and were doing the whole mutual pining thing before that. He’s not just going to up and ignore you without, like, saying anything.”

“If it would help, my offer to slip into a pool and go to check his health still stands.” Ned looks up from where he’s polishing a golden pocket watch left by a follower. 

“Appreciate the thought, Ned, but pretty sure Hayes will make good on his threat to turn the god of thieves into a ‘creature befitting his name’ if you try that again.”

“God of thieves _and_ travelers. I’m traveling, he shouldn’t take such offense at it.” 

“The whole point of the barrier is to keep things from going back and forth; sneaking through as a rat kinda defeats that.”

“T’was for a good cause.”

“You stole a goblet from Woodbridge.”

“As I said.” 

The back door shuts softly, Dani stepping and magicking away the dirt from her hands. Her followers leave offerings of small plants or cuttings, and she plants them without fail in the garden behind the lodge. 

“Still no Duck?” Aubrey holds out her hand and pulls her wife into her lap. 

“Nope. At a guess he stopped to spend the night at the temple.”

Mama groans, rubbing her forehead. 

“I mean, I’m glad Indrid isn’t so alone anymore, but I don’t want to go after that abomination a man short.” Barclay doesn’t want to go after it at all, he wants to sit right here and wait for Joseph to write him back. 

“We’ll be fine if he’s not back tomorrow. Might just have to up the ‘sorcery’” Aubrey winks.

“Fine by me, long as it don’t draw unwanted attention our way. Gettin might tired of Woodbridge scoldin' me for misusing the powers of the gods.”

“We’re stopping rampaging monsters! How is that--ugh, never mind, I’m sure he’d just have some b.s answer anyway.” Aubrey grumbles. 

“Got that right, kiddo. C’mon, let’s sit down and get our plan for tomorrow straight.” Mama pauses on her way to the table, squeezing Barclay’s shoulder. He appreciates the gesture, but it no longer holds the comfort it once did. It no longer feels like reassurance that everything will be alright; now it’s just sympathy for the fact it won’t.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“...the nerve to become annoyed when I warned him of that outcome. Honestly, if you are setting only the most violent of quests for suitors of your son, why are you surprised when I tell you the one who is likely to triumph will also overthrow you?” Indrid’s voice bounces around the cottage as he readies for bed. Duck can hear him easily from the enclosed hot spring that doubles as the seer’s private bath. The minerals are said to repair injuries and restore health. The seer mainly likes them because they’re warm. 

“Mighty ridiculous if you ask me.” He holds his breath, slipping all the way under one final time. Indrid begins talking the moment he resurfaces. 

“If only all my supplicants were as polite as you.”

“Supplicant? That what you’re callin me now?” He teases, stepping from the pool and grabbing a red towel. 

“There are many things I could call you, dearest; steward, demi-god, hero. Though I go with the last one, it raises the question of a heroes reward. You kept my temple from being half-ruined by a chimera, after all.”

“You know I don’t go in for all that. Don’t mind recognition or pay for my trouble, but the fanfare and rewards rub me wrong.” Duck wraps the towel around his waist, following Indrid’s voice to the bedroom. 

“All the same, perhaps it is time you collected a reward.”

Duck rounds the corner and comes to a comically abrupt stop. In the light of a single lamp, Indrid stands by the bed, naked save for silver ropes that bind across his chest, waist, and legs. 

They’ve never fucked, never seen each other naked, not for all the nights pressed together under the blankets, all the mornings of greedy, eager touches before one of them has to leave. The seer is as lanky and bony out of his clothes as in them, and Duck aches to pull the ropes tight, to see the marks of them on that tan skin in the morning light. 

“‘I, ah, made some purchases last I was in town. This was one of them, it’s enchanted to be easily put on and taken off.” He taps his wrists together twice, and more silver rope binds them. He snaps once, and it retreats, “Do you like it?”

“Guh.”

Indrid cocks his head, grinning, “That sounded positive.”

“It is. Sweet fuckin mercy ‘Drid, you look incredible.” He crosses the threshold, then stops, “wait, you ain’t really doin this because you think you owe me, right?”

“Nono, that was merely for, ah, flirtation purposes--oh, oh now that _is_ a confession.” The grin brightens and his gait is confident as he crosses to meet Duck at the center of the black and silver rug. 

“Uh, I, uh, I don’t, fuck, know what you, uh, what you mean.” His breath stutters as Indrid trails fingers across his chest. 

“The one about rewards.”

“Fuck you’re gonna make me say it, ain’t you?”

“Oh yes.”

Duck takes his other hand, kissing the knuckles as he murmurs, “I only wanna do this if you do, but I’d be a damn liar if I said the thought of carryin' you off as a prize like in the old myths didn’t appeal to me.”

“Generally such treatment was for rescued royals, not reclusive seers.”

“Yeah, but I ain’t in love with them.” Ducks tips his chin up, kissing Indrid softly, “and you ain’t a prize to claim.”

“Would you treat me as one if I asked?” It’s that same shy look that Indrid had when he first asked for a kiss.

“In a fuckin heartbeat.”

“Then do so tonight. Ah, if, if that is alright.” Indrid begins curling inwards, “I’m sorry, I ought not to have started with something so intense, if we haven’t-”

Duck kisses his cheek, “I don’t mind it one bit. Happy to do what you want, sugar, long as you tell me if I need to stop.”

“I will.” Indrid slips his arms around Duck’s waist, and for a few breaths they stay just as they are, cheek to cheek and whispering I love you’s back and forth. 

“How do you wanna start?”

“Sit on the edge of the bed, please.”

Duck sinks into the cushy mattress, Indrid kneeling at his feet. Chilly fingers undo the towel, the fabric dropping to the bed, leaving Duck bare. 

“Oh” Indrid sighs, “oh it is even better outside my visions.”

Duck chuckles, “impatient little thing, couldn’t resist peekin?”

“It came unbidden!” Indrid blushes down to his collarbone.

“Uh huh, sure it did.” Duck smirks, “now that you got my dick out, what do you want me to do with it?”

Indrid wets his bottom lip, “My mouth has spent all day offering warnings that people do not choose to heed. I want you to teach it how to do something useful for a change.”

“Holy fuck, yeah, yeah okay.” He spreads his legs so Indrid can settle between them, “long as you tie your hands behind your back. If I’m gonna teach you, I wanna control every move you make.”

Indrid whimpers eagerly, crossing his arms behind his back and tapping his wrists together twice. Duck cups his face, caressing it softly, bends down to kiss the top of Indrid’s head.

Then he shoves his face forward, the moan when his mouth meets wet skin reverberating up Duck’s body. The sound morphs into high, needy noises as Duck keeps him trapped

“Now,” he tugs Indrid’s hair, earning him a delighted wiggle, “you’re gonna quit all that whining and get that sweet little mouth around my dick, _shit_ , yeah, like that, suck hard, not so fuckin high and mighty now.”

Indrid shakes his head, red eyes overflowing with excitement. 

“Powers might belong to a god, but the rest of you is fucking mine, fuck _fuck_ , oh you fuckin like that?”

A nod, Indrid arching with a muffled gasp when Duck pulls his hair, “Then fuckin’ prove it, use that tongue toooh _yeah_ , fuck yeah.” The hand not controlling Indrid grips the edge of the bed and Duck grinds his hips along his lover's mouth, starting slow and building up a tempo that Indrid valiantly tries to match with his tongue. 

“That’s it sugar, I’m real fuckin close, and you ain’t stoppin’ until I cum all over that perfect fuckin face of yours.”

A different moan this time, Indrid shutting his eyes at the praise. 

Duck tsks his tongue, “Of course. All those folks comin here day after day, flatterin you because they want somethin, they don’t know how to praise you right. Gotta be done while you’re offerin up this cute mouth or that tight little ass. Gotta be done by me, ain’t that right?”

Indrid sucks harder, tongue teasing just right, and Duck cums in a flash, keeping him close to ride it out on his face. When he lets go Indrid sinks back onto his heels, lips shiny and panting, Duck’s about to ask if he’s alright when there’s a snap and wiry arms wrap around his waist, Indrid kissing his belly and thighs with gasps that turn into words. 

“Thank you, oh my sweet, thank you. That, that was perfect, you are perfect, so perfect."

He huffs a laugh, drapes his arms over Indrid’s shoulders, rubbing them lightly as the seer continues kissing his body. His hands join the celebration, teasing Duck’s nipples, stroking his stomach, and downright groping his thighs. They even slide down between his body and the bed to squeeze his ass. 

“May we do more?” Indrid gazes hopefully upwards. 

In answer, Duck stands and scoops the other man into his arms, “Take advantage of my rescued prize? Don’t mind if I do.”

Indrid laughs, coating his face in kisses. 

“Want me to sling you over my shoulder then throw you onto the bed?”

“That will not be necessary. Dropping me on it will suffice.”

The bed is so squishy Indrid doesn’t bounce when he hits it, just sinks as Duck clambers atop him, kissing him possessively and grinding against his cock, not letting up until it’s hard and dripping against his thigh. 

“T-trunk” Indrid points to the chest in the corner, “you will find what you need in the trunk.”

Lifting the lid, Duck retrieves a bottle of lubricant and tosses it onto the bed, “Use a finger to open yourself up for me. Gotta get somethin from my bag.”

Years ago, when Minerva was attempting to bargain Duck into accepting his destiny, he got her to change his body to be what he wanted. A full chest became flat, and he could now easily grow a beard. He’d been unsure at the time how much he wanted to change his dick, and so she’d given him a jade ring. When he puts it on, it manifests whatever cock he wants, complete with sensation. He’s pretty damn impressed by it. From the strangled moan he makes when Duck comes back, Indrid shares the feeling. 

The shorter man stares at where Indrid is frantically fucking three fingers into himself, “Seem to recall tellin you to use _a_ finger, sugar.”

“I, I wanted to make it easier for you, and I got so excited, please.” Indrid’s hand twitches, eager to continue it’s task.

“Hands behind your back. Get those ankles together too.”

Indrid complies as Duck climbs onto the bed, and lustful affection blossoms in his chest as Indrid’s eyes widen while he strokes himself hard. 

“Now, suppose the heroic thing to do after I saved your ass is untie you. But I ain’t in the mood for that. Instead, gonna keep you like this while I claim my prize.” He hooks Indrids bound ankles over his left shoulder. “And since you couldn’t behave while you were fuckin yourself-” he twists the ring once, making his cock thicker, and Indrid squirms in anticipation.

“Oh yes” His eyes flutter shut, head pressed into a pillow, as Duck works the first inch in. The position must be awkward, even uncomfortable, but the seer only moans and sighs Duck’s name as thrusts in little by little. 

“Damn” The next thrust is harder, “so tight it feels like you’re a fuckin virgin.”

There’s that deeper, rougher moan again, and Duck chases it back to its’ source.

“Someone want to be the virginal oracle gettin his purity sullied?”

“When, when you say it like that it sounds absurd.” Indrid turns his face, bright red. 

“Y’know” Duck grunts, bottoming out and making them groan in tandem, “back in the day, this woulda taken you outta the runnin to be the oracle.”

“Yes, yesyes” Indrid pumps his hips, the motion juddery and odd from their positions. 

“You woulda, fuck, woulda been forced out, and all because you were so goddamn handsome and perfect I just had to have you.”

“AAhhhn, yes, _yes_ , I, I would have made you look after me in exchange for getting me exiled.”

“Wouldn't have been no ‘made’ about it, sugar; woulda wanted you then, same as I want you now.” Duck picks up the pace, thudding their bodies together with every thrust, “you woulda gone from revered seer to nothin but my personal plaything.”

“Gods, yes, yes AHHhhnfnAH!” His bound legs thrash as Duck wraps his free arm around his thigh to reach his cock, laying neglected at the center of criss-crossing ropes. 

“All the noise you’re makin, folks woulda known it right away too; hear you beggin' for my cock, moanin' while I fuck you, and know they better go ask someone else for their prophecies because you’re too.godsdamn busy. Being. _Mine_.” He thrusts roughly on those last few words, cums a second time, pulsing into Indrid and jacking him hard enough that he cries out. The seer cums across his belly and Duck’s fingers just as Duck finishes fully, so he rides out the sensitivity just to feel Indrid tighten around him.

He pulls out, reaching for the ropes, but the oracle snaps five times and the various ties drop away like fall leaves. 

Indrid sighs, flopping forward into Duck’s arms, “I do not know about you, but I feel decidedly less stressed.”

“Uh huh. Guess we know what you can do next time you get all knotted up.”

“If we did this every time that happened, you would spend every night in my bed.”

“That ain’t the downside you think it is.”

“True.” Indrid sits up, bumps their noses together, “all the same, you have your duties and I have mine. I’m just glad they overlap.”

“Me too. Also real fuckin glad you won’t get in trouble because we fucked.”

Indrid rolls them onto their sides, “Good riddance to bad thinking. You know, they had that rule because some people believed sex would cause seers to lose their abilities. There are just...so very many things wrong with that idea.”

Duck nods, holding Indrid closer in spite of the sticky heat creeping through the windows. 

“We ought to rest” Indrid kisses his temple, “you will be needed by the others tomorrow, and I must replenish my strength for a day of visions. But, ah” he traces a heart shape on Duck’s bicep, “one more kiss before bed.”

The hero closes the inches between them to kiss him with all the tenderness of the first leaves of spring and the heat of the summer sun, “let’s make it two.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

Indrid jolts awake, dreams giving way to the usual swirl of visions. A voice, one audible to him alone, calls to him from the temple. When his patron calls it’s best to answer, not out of a fear of wrath, but because he so seldom reaches out. It’s generally a sign of something urgent. 

He hurries, barefoot, into the hall (he’s made the mistake of hurrying across the shiny floors while wearing socks once) and sits by the dark pool. His reflection disappears, replaced a different set of glowing, red eyes.

_Indrid_

“I am here, your grace.”

_Indrid, there is something you must see. A role you must play. Touch your hand to the water._

He sets his fingertips on the water, the surface not a temperature the mortal mind can register. His patron reaches through, gripping his wrist. 

There’s a flash of white heat and he jerks his hand away, wave after wave of nausea sending the room spinning. He cannot steady himself, his skin his ripping, his bones shifting without rhyme or reason. In the water, their is not sight of his god, only his changing reflection. 

“ _No_. No, no, please! Please! _What have you done to me_?”


	4. Wait for Me

The glass of the skylight fades from pink to gold, the blue sky appearing as Joseph lays on the bed of one of the two guest rooms of the temple. He’s been awake since the stars were still out, the prospect of seeing Barclay today banishing all thoughts of rest, and all sense of calm, from his system. 

As far as evenings in the mortal world go, last night was surprisingly pleasant. Duck’s rambling stories and gentle ribbing soothed him as they sipped drinks and awaited Indrid. The seer, while a tad absentminded and constantly drawing, was funny and thoughtful, and so staggeringly in love with his hero that the ache of jealousy in Joseph’s chest made a full turn to fondness. 

Studying the sky gives his mind ample time to roam, and comes back again and again with questions  
-What should he say when he sees Barclay? There’s an optimal way of greeting the person you’ve missed with every particle of you, right?  
-What is at the bottom of Lake Kepler? A lake that deep must have something lurking in it. Maybe a new entry for the bestiary?  
-How is Indrid not constantly slipping on these floors?  
-Flowers, maybe he should bring Barclay flowers?  
-Would Duck help him collect mortal tall tales?  
-Will his other friends be anywhere near Barclay?  
-Or are they scattered in the same way the gods on the mountain are penned like so many dogs, gnawing on each other?  
-Speaking of dogs, he should see if the cactus hounds are thriving like the cactus cats did.  
-Why does it feel like he’s been cut off from the world far longer than two years?  
-Have mortals always distrusted gods this much?

_“I’m gonna wind down for the evenin. Nice talkin with you, Joseph, remind me to tell you more about those drop bears tomorrow. ‘Drid, you comin?”_

_“In a moment, dearest. I need to show our guest to his room.”_

_Joseph and the seer step into the hall, walking side by side as Duck exits through a back door. The oracle stops, turning his mirrored gaze on the god._

_“Is your arrival some new game the gods wish to play with him?” He tilts his head towards the back door._

_“How-”_

_“I see glimpses of you when you call on me from the mountain, and in visions. I know your face, seeker of knowledge.” A slight bow is all the deference he offers._

_Joseph crosses his arms, “I met Duck by chance. I hadn’t even heard of him until he saved me from the chimera.”_

_Indrid studies him, and Joseph bristles at the suggestion he would lie to him. Then the seer nods, shoulders relaxing, “That is a relief. This way.” He gestures to their left._

_“You know,” Joseph stays next to him, “some might say confronting a god so directly was dangerous.”_

_Indrid shrugs, “You never struck me as the authoritarian sort. And I, ah, I feel that for all the questions the gods ask of me, I ought to get a few in return.”_

_Joseph smirks, “You’ve picked up a lot from Duck, haven’t you?”_

_“Not as much as you might think.” Indrid lights the lamps, leans his back against the wall beneath the second one, “oracles are instructed not to interfere in what they see. We are meant only to report, nothing more. The longer I held this position, the less that sat right with me. I tried to intervene where I could, but more often than not nothing came of it. I had given up on the idea when Duck appeared in my life. He promised to change fate, and he did. In that moment, he renewed my faith that I could do the same. Which is why” he pushes off the wall, “I will tell you that your leaving the mountain will have dire consequences-”_

_“Trust me, I already know that.”_

_“-but it is not too late to stop them. A massive change is coming, one that will shake the order of the world. Whether it is for the better or to the destruction of us all, I cannot yet say. There is some factor that has not yet settled into place, and so the specifics of the timelines elude me. So, take care, god of curiosity. And for goodness sake, do not go at your quest alone.” The urgency of the last words sinks under his skin, chilling him._

_“Why would I be alone? The whole reason I came here was to stop being lonely.”_

_“There are those who will do whatever they can to keep you isolated.” Indrid sets his hand on the door frame, looking over his shoulder, “I will not tell Duck who you truly are tonight. You had your reasons for keeping that from him, just as you have reasons for staying secretive about your quest, and any mortal knows that prying too deep into the affairs of gods ends badly. But if you continue to seek out his aid, do him the courtesy of the truth. Please.” He bows lower this time, and Joseph finds himself mimicking the motion._

_“You have my word.”_

When the sky is fully blue and there’s still no sign of his host or his rescuer, he changes into clean clothes and ventures out into the temple. He knows it’s polite for the first to rise to make hot water for tea or coffee, and a quick search of the kitchen yields a kettle. As he waits for it to boil, more details from the previous night drift through his mind. How he could tell the rooms Indrid actually inhabited from the ones he used by their barely contained mess. How the seer spoke of town, of friends, of his limited travels. How he was grateful for his powers but weary of them at the same time. He was so different from the image in Joseph’s mind of the man who offered his visions to the gods; regal, reverential, untouched by the world. A sketch of the mortal, rather than the full picture. 

How often has his mind done that same thing? And to who?

Just as he finds three, sturdy mugs, the back door slams shut and footsteps race down the hall. He shuts the cabinet in time to register the disappointment on Duck’s face.

“Everything alright?”

“I ain’t sure. You seen Indrid at all this mornin?”

“No. I thought he was still asleep.”

Duck shakes his head, sending the section of his hair streaked with grey across his eyes, “Wasn’t there when I woke up, and I just did a full circuit of the place lookin for him.”

“Maybe he’s in town?”

“Usually leaves a note or wakes me up if he’s gone before I am but, uh, I guess he coulda forgotten.”

He doesn’t look any calmer. 

“How about we head for Kepler now? I don’t have any reason to delay, and we might find him there or pass him on the way back.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. You’re probably right. Lemme, uh, lemme go get my things and we can go.”

They’re out on the path to town in under ten minutes, Duck even less talkative than yesterday. Joseph does his best to reassure him, but fears his efforts are lacking; as much as he wants to focus on all the reasons why Indrid is probably fine, his mind turns back to how he’ll find Barclay once they’re in town. Maybe it’s best if he finds a cafe or a tavern to sit down and review his notes in. He’s kept track of every location Barclay mentions frequently, but needs to sort through them and come up with a logical route to trace. 

They reach a newer hillside promenade within the town, looking out onto the older neighborhoods and, beyond them, the green sand and dark waters of Lake Kepler. They turn downwards, following stone staircases into the heart of the city. The homes and streets don’t shine as brightly as in the upper levels, but oaks as old as the city itself offer welcome shade and families splash about in fountains, laughs echoing down the streets. 

“Ain’t sure where you’re headin’, but unless it’s Amnesty Lodge we oughta part ways soon.” Duck peers through the window of a sweet shop, sighs, and continues down the street. 

Now _that_ name he remembers without notes.

“Actually, I-”

A wave of screams and shrieks ripple up from the waterfront, and Duck is running before Joseph can ask what’s going on. If there’s trouble, his instinct is to help, and so he take off after the human. 

“Damn it, thought they were gonna wait until I was back to go after it!”

“Go after wha-WHAT in Sylvains name is that?”

Rising from the water, taller than any of the surrounding buildings, is what could generously be described as a turtle made of nightmares. It’s shell is covered in scars and algae, it’s neck swings side to side, and it’s beak could snap a man in half. Which begs the question-

“And what are _they_ doing?” Joseph points to the figure standing wedged in the monster’s mouth, holding it open.

“That’s the Beast of Busco, named for the only fella who first saw it. And they’re tryin to keep it from attackin folks along this bank, but they’re doin it wrong” he yells this last part through cupped hands, but no one on the beach hears him. 

A burst of fire by the creature’s eyes distracts it, and then thick vines spring from the sand, binding it’s neck and pulling it down to the ground. 

“Get that dynamite ready!”

“Hold up!” Duck yells as he and Joseph crest the last set of rocks before the shore. Duck hits the sand just as the creature wrenches its neck sideways, breaking the vines and throwing the man from its mouth in one movement. The figure hits a nearby boulder with a thud before sinking under the water

“Shit” Joseph dives in after it, thanking any and all relevant members of his pantheon for the fact the water is clear enough that he can see the stunned figure, their back to him. He hooks his arms under theirs' as he looks towards the surface, the pressure in his chest an unkind reminder of his new mortality. It’s a graceless ascent, but he gets them to the surface, kicking and paddling his arms backwards until he bumps into sand. 

The figure he rescued groans, coughing up water and pushing at the dark hair plastered over their face and neck.

“Are you alright?”

The figure freezes upon hearing his voice, and whips around to stare at him with deep, brown eyes. 

“Yeah. I’m okay now.” Says Barclay. 

Joseph hits the sand and shallow water sideways, the two of them moving for the kiss at the same instant. Barclay’s fingers tangle in his wet hair as he throws a leg over Joseph’s thigh, tongues greeting each other like old friends. Joseph drags his fingers over every available inch of that broad frame, finds it just as wonderful as he remembers and moans at that fact. Barclay chuckles into the kiss, pulling him closer, linking them at every possible point. 

He’s home. He’s home and it tastes like lake water, feels like teeth nipping his bottom lip. 

“You’re back. You came back.” Barclay whispers in between kisses.

“I couldn’t stand it any longer.”

Barclay whines, a sound that’s always so charmingly strange, and buries his face against Joseph’s neck.

“You’re okay.”

“Yeah, big guy, I am.” Joseph levels him with a jokingly annoyed gaze, “and I _know_ you've heard me talk about how any sort of giant reptile is at its least dangerous when you trap it’s mouth _closed_.”

Barclay groans, thunking his head onto Joseph’s shoulder, “Fuck, you’re right. I totally forgot. Oh, fuck, the abomination.” He sits up, sand flying every which way, pulling Joseph with him. 

The five figures standing a few feet from them on the beach all turn their heads.

“Wow, I thought for sure they’d stay like that for, like, an hour.” Aubrey smirks, then waves happily at Joseph. 

“...Like I was sayin” Duck, soaking wet, pats the side of one half of a pair of giant, grey eggs, the now restrained monster eyeing him warily, “these are why she was attackin folks; they were too near her nest. If we move it to Honey Island Cove, no one goes over there. She won’t have anythin to attack, and can hatch her babies in peace.”

“My dear boy, that means there will now be _three_ of these creatures loose in the water. And while I am all for preserving ecosystems, that strikes me as dangerous.”

“Nah, babies’ll head up river and find their own turf when they’re big enough. Now if we can just get ‘em over there…”

Aubrey waves her hands over one egg, then the other, and they disappear. She gives the mother the same treatment, turns to Duck beaming. 

“All at, or, um, under? Honey Island Cove, safe and sound.”

“Thanks, lady flame. Now that’s done, any of you seen Indrid?”

A flurry of shaking heads and Duck mutters, sitting dejectedly down in the sand. 

“He’s been like this all morning.” Joseph whispers. 

“I mean, Indrid does tend to tell him when he’s going somewhere. Wait, fuck” Barclay cups Joseph’s chin, “babe, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh” Joseph touches the scratch on his forehead, I must’ve grazed a rock when I dove in after you.” He raises his hand, then lowers it, “um, if you want it healed fast, you’ll have to do it for me. I, um, I’m mortal now.”

Barclay goes pale even as he waves away the cut.

“It’s the penalty for crossing the gate. I’m sure in Haye’s mind, if you’re willing to turn your back on what he sees as your role as a god, then you don’t deserve to be one.”

“....hold the fuck on, you’re a god?” Embarrassment cuts through the worry on Duck’s face, “fuck, and here I was runnin my mouth all yesterday about what I think of y’all up on that mountain. Surprised you didn’t fuckin turn me into a spider or somethin.”

“That’s a horrible abuse of power.”

“I mean, I knew _they_ were gods” he gestures at Aubrey and Dani, “but you two? Man, did not see that one comin.” 

“Um, how did you know that’s what we are?” 

Duck glances at Aubrey, “Lady Flame, I ain’t ever met an enchanter as powerful as you. Some of the shit you do is god like, and it didn’t take much to piece together which one, what with the fire and all. And you” he points at Dani, “don’t think I ain’t noticed that half the plants in your garden are ones that don’t grow in Kepler, or in this part of the world period.”

Aubrey shoots Ned a look, and the older man clears his throat, “I must confess that I am also a member of that noble order. God of travelers, con men, and thieves.” 

“So _that’s_ how you never get caught durin those harebrained schemes.”

“Oh, he gets caught.” Joseph and Barclay say as one, bursting into joint laughter. As Ned grumbles, Duck looks expectantly at Mama. 

“I’m the lone human of the bunch, on account of you bein’ a demigod. Now, since my skin is already startin to burn, my vote is that any more confessions happen back at the Lodge. Not to mention you gotta get to cookin, lover boy.” She extends both hands, helping Joseph and Barclay to their feet. She bows to Joseph, “Name’s Mama. Glad to have you in Kepler.”

He puts the face and name to description in Barclay’s communication; the woman who takes in strays of all kinds. Including, it seems, gods. 

Joseph bows back, “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many miles away, a dark figure huddles close to the wall of a darker cave. 

“Please. I did as you asked. I came where you said to. Please I, I do not understand what you want from me.”

No reply, not even a whisper on the air. In the distance, claws scrabble across stone.

Indrid presses his face to his knees, “If you will not tell me then please, please let him find me.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph sighs as he takes another sip of coffee, chilled in an icebox and served with exactly the right amount of cream. He’s in one of Barclay’s spare shirts and short trousers while his own dry in the sun. The slight difference in size means the clothing hands loose enough for the faint breeze to brush across his skin as he sits on a stool, watching the love of his life at work. 

Once they arrived back at the Lodge, Duck pointed himself towards the woods and the temple, hoping that he and Indrid had simply missed each other. Ned accompanied him, citing a need to ask the seer’s advice and, Joseph suspects, a desire to keep his friend distracted with ridiculous stories so none of them would have to find out if a demigod could worry himself to death. 

Mama, Dani, and Aubrey all set off on their various lodge and/or deity related tasks, leaving Barclay and Joseph alone just as customers swarmed in for lunch. So they’ve caught up in between Barclay opening ovens and tending stoves, traded two dozen “I love yous” in the spiced and flour-dusted air. 

“Barclay, can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing.” Barclay sets his knife on some cucumbers and a bright pink melon. 

“Do you do all of this by hand, every day?”

“More or less. Sometimes if we get too crowded, or we’re out of something by surprise, I use my powers. Guess that’s kinda silly, but it’s what I like. I like feeling dough under my fingers, or that burst of smell you get when you lift the lid to check if something is done. I like when people take that first bite and it makes their whole day better and, just, knowing that I made that with my own two hands. I like knowing that I have a way to care for people that no one can take away.”

Joseph slips off the stool, setting his glass aside to wrap his arms around Barclays middle, “I missed you so much.”

“Because I wax poetic about cooking?”

“Yes. Also everything else.” He trails kisses up Barclay’s neck. 

“No particular favorites?”

“I can think of several” He glides his hands down to massage strong, unfairly muscled thighs.

“Holding a knife, babe.” Barclay chides gently. 

“Sorry.” He steps back, “I’m trying to focus on our deep emotional connection and my love for seeing you in your element, but also we’ve been apart for two years and, um, certain things are on my mind.”

Barclay sets the knife down, pulling two empty pots, a glass pitcher, and a plate onto the counter. He runs a finger over the rim of each, then calls to one of the lodge staff.

“Moira? I, uh, I’m feelin kinda hot. Like I need to lie down. So I’m gonna go to my rooms. Whatever someone orders, say it into one of these and it’ll appear ready to go. Sound good?”

“Of course.” She smiles, and is already ordering the dishware around as they hurry out the door and up the back stairs. 

“A follower of mine, so she’s not phased by all the god stuff.” Barclay explains, throwing open the door. Joseph barely makes it through when the door slams shut and and a hand slams down on either side of him. 

“Okay, babe, we got two years to make up for. Where do you wanna start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to bellafarallones over on the Indruck discord, who first brought up the idea of Indrid being transformed against his will.


	5. Lie Down Forever

“Fuck me.” 

Barclay chuckles, “Gotta be more specific, babe.”

“Fuck me now?”

A full on laugh, and he’s pressed flat against the door, Barclay kissing down his face to bite his ear, “Yeah? Want me to hold you up and fuck you?”

“Please” 

Barclay hooks his arms under Joseph’s thighs, sliding them up to his ass as he wraps his legs around him. The taller god goes in for a kiss, growling a little when Joseph rocks his hips. 

“Fuck I missed this.” Barclay digs his fingers into his ass, “missed every fucking inch of you.”

“I missed you too, big guy.” Joseph brings his hands up to cup the back of Barclay’s head.

Barclay whines at the nickname, dipping his face into the crook of Joseph’s neck. It’s one of his favorite side effects of Barclay being a Sylph; he becomes possessively deferential at times, nosing at Joseph, trying to scent him, biting across his skin as he whines for the chance to fuck him. It’s a paradox that never fails to make Joseph spread his legs. 

“I thought about you every day. A thousand questions and things to discover and all I wanted to know was whether you were thinking of me too.”

“So much, so fucking much.” Barclay’s next breath is shaky, warming his skin, “sorry I, I just” He looks up, meeting Joseph’s eyes, “when that gate closed, I thought I was never gonna see you again.” 

His hold on Joseph tightens as he blinks hurriedly, tears escaping in spite of his efforts. 

“Oh, Barclay.” He strokes his beard softly, soothing him. 

“S-sorry, didn’t mean to get weepy.”

“You know it doesn’t bother me. Do you want to just go lay down together for a bit.”

“No, I really, _really_ wanna fuck you until you forget your name and only know mine. Just, lemme-” He brings their lips together and Joseph understands: in his earlier kisses, he’d held back. Two years of waiting, of longing, are palpable in that kiss, Barclay’s mouth mapping his as if the kiss is all that’s keeping Joseph from disappearing again. Joseph pours all the reassurance he can into his end of the kiss, whispers, “I’m here” as they finally break apart. 

“Okay.” Barclay takes a deep breath, “Okay, you ready to-”

“YesOWshit” His legs spasm and the other god lowers him to stand again, “I, um, I’m so used to being able to hold whatever position we need for as long as we need I forgot that’s not an easy one to stay in. Damn it, how do mortals handle it?”

Barclay grins, “They get creative.”

With that he spins them, his own back thudding into the door.

“Barclay, if I can’t hold myself up there’s no way I can lift you.”

“Trust me, there is. Try it.” 

Bracing himself for his knees, arms, or both to give out, he mimics how Barclay always lifts him. The god slides up the door like he weighs nothing. 

“My divine powers aren’t just for cooking, y’know.” Barclay is thoroughly pleased with himself, and as Joseph leans in for a kiss, cool air ghosts over his cock as first his borrowed shorts and then Barclays pants dissolve into nothing. He knows without looking that they’re folded and stacked somewhere in the room. There’s no chance of him checking, his eyes too busy following the trail of lube as it drips off the curve of Barclay’s ass. 

“Got myself ready for you babe, don’t wanna wait anymore.”

Normally, Joseph might tease him, rub his hard cock between those full cheeks until he begged just right. Not today.

Barclay moans as Joseph presses into him, then yips gratefully as he thrusts fast and hard. His patience has been thin for hours, or maybe months, and the last of it evaporates from the heat of Barclay around him. The door nob rattles with every jam of his hips, Barclay letting go of him in favor of scrabbling at the chipped paint and worn wood. His claws are peeking through his human form, and he leverages his upper body against the door to push his chest forward. Joseph knows exactly what he wants, but now that his cock has found it’s rightful place, he’s in more of a teasing mood.

“Something you need, big guy?”

“Mark me, please babe, I want proof this is real.”

Joseph’s gaze flicks down to the cooks shirt, “You’re not making it easy for me.”

“Huh? Oh, oh _fuck_ that” instead of waving it away, Barclay rips his shirt open, buttons pattering like rain on the floor and, impressively, the window. 

“That’s better.” Joseph licks at one nipple, bites down to hear a another submissive yip of gratitude. 

“ _Yes_ , fuck yes, more, please babe, want it everywhere.” 

Joseph bites down again sucking until the nipple is bright red before attacking the other side. Leaves teeth marks and bruises in a perfect line just below them, opts on a zig-zag pattern of pain across his collarbone. When he attacks his throat, there’s a sob.

“Yeah, _yeah_ , that’s it, fuck, lemme know I’m yours, don’t ever wanna forget, fuck, you feel so good when you let loose like this.”

“Can’t--shit, you take it well--feel any better than your ass does.” He kisses the newest bruise, noses Barclay’s neck and sinks his teeth into it. From this angle he can watch Barclay’s cock bouncing uselessly in the air between them.

“Then cum in it, fill me up babe, make me feel it.”

“I will, big guy. If…” he slows his hips, “you make yourself cum first.”

Barclay’s right hand flies between them, moving over his cock in desperate, short strokes. He whimpers as Joseph stops thrusting.

“I can do it fast babe please, please don’t sto-AHGH, fuck, fuck yeah.” He fucks his fist harder as Joseph slaps his ass. 

“Have to leave some marks there too, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do, fuck I’m so fucking close.”

Joseph purses his lips in mock disapproval, then delivers a harder slap with each word, “Hurry up, big guy, I want to cum.” He moves his mouth to Barclay’s ear, “or should I find another mate to fill up.”

The effect is instant; Barclay shakes his head with a frantic whimper, then howlgrowlpurrs as he spills between them.

“F-fuck, can’t, can’t believe you AHhnnn, remember that” his entire broad frame shakes from the force of Joseph fucking him.

“I’m the god of curiosity, and that includes being curious if the same dirty talk that once made you cum untouched still works.”

“Lucky me that you’re so, uh, thorough.” Barclay trails a finger, still sticky with cum, across Joseph lips and he parts them, drawing it in to suck. He loves Barclay’s hands, loves all the things he can do with them, from baking bread to making Joseph discover new ways to cum. Loves them rough and splayed across his arms or back to hold him down, loves them pleadingly stroking his cock.

He keeps the finger in his mouth as his orgasm builds, sucks hard as he thrusts twice more, the wet, popping sound of Barclay pulling it out the perfect counterpoint to the prolonged groan filling the room. Joseph can’t be sure which one of them is the source, only that the climax is stronger than any he can remember, that Barclay squeezes around him as if he’s desperate for every drop. 

“Praise the gods, that was so fucking good.”

“Ahem.” Joseph pulls out abruptly, smacking his ass one last time. 

Barclay snickers, “Okay, praise the god of curiosity and great orgasms in particular.”

“I don’t know, think I just defiled a sacred relic.”

“Who you calling a relic?” Barclay gets his feet on the ground, stretching his arms and cracking his neck.

“She made you before she made me. That’s all I’m going to say.” Joseph shrugs, smiling.

“Oh yeah? Could a relic do this?” Barclay grabs him, spinning him and then dipping him as if in a dance, sending them both into a fit of laughter. 

“If they did, it explains why so many people go looking for them.”

“That’s my blue eyes, always gotta have the last word.” He straightens them up, holds Joseph’s hand on the short trip to the bed. 

“Do you need to go back downstairs?” Joseph takes the glass of orange blossom water Barclay manifests for him. 

“Nah, I can be gone a little longer.” Barclay lays down. Joseph finishes his drink, setting it aside to curl up in his lovers arms. They sigh in tandem, Barclays fingers playing through Josephs’ dark hair. 

“This was the thing I missed most. Just...being able to lay here, holding you, without being afraid it was the last time.”

“It won’t be. I came down to find you, Barclay. And nothing, not even Hayes and Woodbridge or the rest of them together, will ever take me back there.”

“Promise?” Barclay says softly. 

“Promise.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minerva’s temple shines in the summer heat, regal and uncomplicated, built of sturdy corners and solid beams as hard to shake as the goddess herself. The entryway and the main room containing her likeness (carved from the heart of a tree split by lightning) are each lined with trophies and offerings;swords, armor, gold, arrows, everything mortals use in battle or believe will make the goddess of strategy smile upon them. 

Duck passes through all of it without a second look, finding the smaller hall behind her statue leading to rooms of her temple keepers and clerics, until he reaches a door without any lock or hinges. He unsheathes Beacon, setting his pommel at the center of the door. It swings open, revealing a far smaller altar with a single, dusty pillow in front of it. 

The hero kneels, lights the pale blue candles and sets a tooth of the chimera between them. 

“Minerva? You, uh, you there?”

A swirl of bright blue light, and the candle flames flare and spin to form a central ball of fire. 

“Duck Newton! To what do I owe this visit?” She’s beaming at him. That’s something he can’t fault her for; in spite of the constant butting heads, she’s always happy to see him. 

“I, uh, I was wonderin if you could use your powers to tell me where Indrid is? Y’know, the Oracle of Gowinbane? I asked Aubrey and Dani, even Barclay gave it a try but...they can’t find him. I dunno, I thought maybe bein’ up the mountain gives you a better view? Or, uh, maybe you got some kind of fancy scryin’ tool up there?”

The goddess nods, “You have come to the right place, Duck Newton. Listen carefully: in the Silver Mountains, outside the town of Point Pleasant, is a cave. In this cave are three monsters. Slay them, and you will find the Oracle.”

“Fuck, you mean they’re holdin him captive?”

“Indeed. Go, Duck Newton, and find your seer.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

“That’s odd. I know what cave she’s talking about. For years it’s had two monsters: a Wampus Cat, and the Eternal Serpent.” Joseph stirs his coffee from his position next to Barclay at the table. 

“Eternal ain’t a word I wanted to hear.” Duck only came to ask one or two of the Pine Guard to help him rescue Indrid, now it’s sounding like even with all of them he’ll be shit out of luck. 

“It’s not actually eternal. It’s a kind of Joint Snake, which can put themselves back together no matter how many pieces they’re chopped into. But you can kill them with things like fire.”

“Guess we know who’s comin with.” Mama--already loading up the arrows for her cross-bow--winks at Aubrey, “Ned and Dani, I think you oughta stay here to run things and watch over the place. If me, two gods, a demi-god, and a former god can’t take these critters out, we’re gonna have to regroup anyway. Dani, you’re in charge.”

They gather their weapons in a hurry, Barclay arming Joseph with a spare crossbow, then gather in a tight circle so Aubrey can transport them to the cave in the blink of an eye. They end up about a half mile from the entrance.

“Eh, it’s hard to be exact when I’m moving this many people. Onward!”

As they walk, Joseph instructs them on the best strategy for approaching the serpent.

“And as for the Wampus Cat, we’ll need to be careful. They’re incredibly stealthy. Except for when they scream.”

“Always heard their screams were the voices of every soul they claimed.” Duck adds, fingers already on Beacon’s hilt. 

“Not really, since they don’t have the ability to do anything to mortals besides kill them. But the scream can split the ears of anyone, even a god.”

“Only ever heard one far off, when I was growin up” Mama adds from the back of the group, “not real keen on hearin-”

A scream bursts from the mouth of the cave, the whole party clapping their hands over their ears as it tears at them. Even with them covered, Duck’s brain threatens to split in two and run from his ears all in hopes of escaping the noise. 

It stops as suddenly as it started, the mountainside eerily quiet in the aftermath. 

Aubrey raises her hand, “All in favor of ear plugs?”

Everyone else raises their hand, though they agree to move back to back once in the cave, since protecting themselves from the cats cry leaves them even more vulnerable to it’s stealth. From the entrance of the cave, they see three tunnels. Aubrey raises a glowing hand, but only brings shadows into view. 

“No fuckin way are we splittin up, so no one suggest it.” Duck hisses.

From the left tunnel, something hisses back. There’s a rush of wind and copper scales, and they have only a moment to dive out of the way of the oncoming serpent. The immense reptile whips back around fangs bared. Aubrey launches a blast of fire, curses when the serpent dodges it. 

“Dang it!”

“Here, lemme get the head.” Duck raises Beacon, only for the world to go sideways as a black cat the size of a draft horse pounces on him. 

“On it” Mama fires her bow. An instant before the arrow connects, the cat bursts into fog. The good news is this removes it from Duck’s chest. The bad news is it lunges at Barclay immediately upon reappearing. The god catches it, only for it to pull the same trick the instant Joseph raises his weapon. 

“Why are they so fucking fast?” Aubrey yells, her attacks heating the cave as she pursues the serpent. 

“It's the kind of skill that helped them grow this size, I think. Here” Joseph looses an arrow, striking the serpent in the eye. It thrashes, writhing onto its back. Aubrey hits it with a blaze of fire, leaving nothing but ashes.

“One downOW!” She gets a block spell up so the cat’s second strike bounces off. It snarls, turning its attention on Duck. He swings on a perfect arc at its neck, Beacon swift enough to make contact before it disappears. The force of the motion lodges the blade in the wall. 

Nearby, Joseph and Mama call out strategy and orders. All Duck picks up are wing-beats and a screech from the final tunnel. The last monster is close, wind whipping his hair around his face as he struggles to free his sword. The others are too busy dodging the monster to notice his plight. 

“C’mon, not now. We’re so close. Beacon, please, cooperate for once in you’re fuckin life so we can save him.”

“It's not my fault you arrrrree weeeak.”

“I ain’t weak, you’re fuckin stuck!”

“Theennn leeet the hands of the gods leeeead meee.”

Duck closes his eyes and weakens his hold, feels divine energy coursing into his fingers. As if moving on his own, Beacon wrenches loose and whips backwards. By the time Duck turns to follow, the blade is buried in the winged creature. It chirps in pain, glowing red eyes widening as it stares at him. 

He pulls Beacon back, time turning to a sickening crawl as the feathers and claws fall away, the figure shrinking as they do. 

Indrid stands on shaking legs, blood pouring from the wound in his chest. 

“Duck?” His voice is weak, his uncovered eyes confused. 

“No. No, no!” Beacon clatters to the ground as he rushes forward, catching the seer as he crumples, “no, no this ain’t right, this ain’t what she told me.”

Behind him, the scream of the dying cat.

“You, you came for me.” Indrid’s smile flutters like a moth caught against a burning lamp. 

“Of course I did, I’ll always come for you but this, ‘Drid, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know, I didn’t know it was you please, please hold on. Aubrey!” He yells, trying to staunch the bleeding with Indrid’s torn clothes, “Aubrey for fucks sake get over here! It’s okay” he rests their foreheads together, “you’re gonna be okay, I’m gonna make it okay, you’re gonna heal and I’ll look after you and I won’t ever leave your side, please, please stay.”

“Oh fuck, what the fuck why is Indrid-”

“It’s my fault, I thought he was the last monster.”

“He was” Joseph’s hand is half covering his mouth in horror. 

“It don’t fuckin matter, Aubrey, please, you’re a fuckin goddess, I seen you heal people before. Please” He sits back enough for the goddess to kneel next to him. She sets her fingers above Indrid’s heart. 

“Duck I’m sorry I, I can heal anyone. But I can’t” she inhales, wiping under her eye with her palm, “Duck, I can’t raise the dead.”


	6. Way Down Under the Ground

The air around him crackles, Aubrey’s voice hollow in the distance. She’s talking, no, praying, she’s asking Sylvain for help bringing Indrid back. The cave fills with dozens of colored lights, and he’s dimly aware that Barclay shields Mama’s eyes from the full force of a divine glow. It could be Sylvain, the end of the world, or his own mind cracking, Duck really doesn’t care. All that matters is the still figure in his arms, in the fact Indrid’s lifeless fingers are still set in his hand. 

“Ooooh fuck, this isn’t good.” Aubrey stays between Duck and the growing light.

A dozen glowing figures appear, surrounding Duck and the others in a circle. Minerva is just to his left. For once she doesn’t look happy to see him. 

“I must admit, I am a little surprised at you, Joseph.” Hayes' disapproval echoes in his ears, “risking the security of our entire pantheon for this.” He points at Barclay.

“Last I checked, this is still a fucking god just like you.” Barclay growls. 

Woodbridge snorts, “A god who wastes his time in a kitchen. Barely a step up from a goddess who performs magic for children.”

“Hey!” A wreath of flame appears around Aubrey’s head, “First off, I do that, like, once a week. Second, how the fuck are you using your powers any better? You just sit up in the sky and punish people who aren’t invested in whatever you think is the ‘right’ order. At least Barclay can work a fucking oven.”

“This does not concern you, Aubrey. Nor does it concern Barclay. You two made your choice to stay.”

“Um, no, you exiled us.”

Woodbridge continues on, “Joseph opened the gate, exposed us all to a possible threat. And for what? To pursue the pleasures of earth with a lesser god? It’s absurd.”

“I expected better of him.” Hayes adds. 

“Alright, look here.” Mama steps past Barclay, hat tipped down to protect her eyes, “I’m mighty tired of you insulting my cook and my kids.”

Woodbridge gasps, “You dare to call yourself the mother of gods, Madeline Cobb?”

“Never said anythin of the kind. And I don’t have to have made ‘em to know they need lookin after sometimes. More than one way to be a mama. And right now, this mama wants to know if y’all appeared just to yell at two of your own or if you’re here to do somethin useful.”

“We came to offer a choice,” Hayes moves closer to Joseph, “return, and regain your powers.”

“No.” Joseph stares at the god, and for a moment Duck thinks it’s a blessing he’s the god of curiosity. The look in his eyes is terrifying. 

“Let me finish. Return and gain your powers, or we perform the same magic on Barclay and remove his as well. You will both be mortal.”

“And everyone knows that all sorts of tragedies can befall mortal couples.” Woodbridge jerks his head towards Duck and Indrid. 

Joseph turns back to Barclay, “I-”

“Oh come on!” Aubrey throws up her hands, whirls towards another goddess, “Janelle, for real, why are the rest of you going along with this? They didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Joseph crossed the barrier between worlds, when he could have easily waited until the danger the Oracle warned of was past. It’s not the most...logical course of action.”

“If you want to talk logic, _logically_ it could take decades, or centuries, or Sylvain knows how much longer for that to happen.” Joseph stands tall, “I can’t bear the thought of being separated from Barclay for that long. And Sylvain made me to be part of this world, the whole thing, and she made you for the same reason. I won’t turn my back on that because it goes against the rules.”

“Our terms remain the same, god of curiosity. You have until the end of the month to decide.” 

Before Joseph can respond, Hayes is gone, the images of the other gods dissolving one by one. 

“Wait!” Duck calls out, “wait, one of you has to be able to help us, please! For fucks sake, what good are gods you can’t bring him back!?” His cries are unheeded by all but one figure.

Minerva kneels across from him, sending familiar blue light glowing over his skin. 

“There is only one god of life, Duck Newton. And she has spoken to anyone for a long time.”

Duck sniffs, tears running down his cheeks as the sorrow in his chest turns to pure, burning rage. 

“Yeah, but you spoke to me today and you fuckin _lied_ to me! Told me if I slayed all three monsters I’d save ‘im and just conveniently fuckin forgot to mention he was one of ‘em!” 

“Duck, I-”

“What the _fuck_ is this? Some kinda test, some kind of, of fuckin punishment for avoidin my destiny so long? Or is this all just some kinda fuckin power play, remindin the demigod of his place?”

“Duck-” Minerva reaches forward and he clutches Indrid closer, certain she’ll take him away.

“Don’t come any closer, you done enough, go find another fuckin hero to bother you fuckin-”

“DUCK NEWTON.” Her voice cracks the nearby rocks.

Duck snaps his mouth shut.

“I am sorry, I am trying to shout less but you were not listening. I swear to you, I know nothing of what you speak. If someone spoke to you today, if someone moved your arm against the Oracle, it was not me.”

“Bullshit.”

The goddess sets her hand on her heart, “I swear it on my honor.”

The lens focusing his anger shatters. The goddess of war values honor above all. 

“But I _saw_ you. If it wasn’t you, who the fuck was it?”

“I do not know. That alone worries me a great deal. All the same, someone used your faith in me to harm you, and the Oracle. For that I am unendingly sorry.”

“‘Drid.” He presses his face into silver hair, whispers his name again as if he might call him back, “‘Drid. I’m so sorry darlin. I failed.”

Minerva looks up at the three other gods, all wearing distinct masks of sorrow. 

“No, Duck Newton. The seeds of this, whatever it is, were sown long ago.”

Seeds. Seeds buried in the heart of the world, roots reaching all the way to the underworld. 

Wait. 

“I’m goin after him. I’ll bring him back from the underworld myself. I know it’s been done.”

“Not for a long, long time.” Joseph murmurs. 

“Then we’re fuckin due for a success.”

Minerva raises an eyebrow, “even if the journey is so treacherous that most do not return?”

“Yeah, even if.” Duck locks eyes with her. 

The goddess smiles, “I could not hope for a braver hero. I cannot aid you much, but I can give you this” a perfect circle of shiny, black stone with a red gem at the center appears in the air above her hands, “It will allow you to pass unseen through the realms of the dead.”

“Thank you.” Duck holds the stone to his chest. 

“I will watch over you as I can. Good luck, Duck Newton.” She stands, bowing to the other gods, and dissolves into nothing. Duck sighs, making a labored turn on the floor to look at his friends.

“Any of y’all know where the door to the underworld is?”

\-------------------------------------------

“Gotta say, always thought callin’ this place a ‘Quell Gate’ was just an old wives tale.” Duck rips another piece of ivy away from the boarded up mine. 

“Who do you think starts those tales?” Aubrey sets her hands on the board and they disappear, “There are ways down to the underworld scattered here and there, and the best way to keep people from going too far is for the gods to tell them the truth. Y’know, because most people don’t want to get anywhere near the land of the dead. C’mon, time is about to get really fucking weird, so the faster we move the better.”

Duck takes her hand, and the lantern she materializes for him as the goddess boards the door once again. It’s just the two of them, as Mama promised to keep watch over Indrid’s body from the safety of the Lodge, using Dani’s powers to keep him from succumbing to decay. As for the others, Joseph and Barclay initially insisted on coming. 

“No, y’all got your own troubles. Should be worrying about gettin exiled and turned mortal, I can go after ‘Drid myself.”

“Duck, I don’t give a fuck about Haye’s and his threats right now. You and Indrid are my friends. I want to help how I can.”

“Barclay’s right. We can deal with their ultimatum when we get back. Besides, when we last spoke Indrid warned me to not venture on any quests alone. I think he’d tell you the same thing.”

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but if I not only lost Indrid, got my ass stuck in the underworld, and kept y’all from bein’ able to get around the threats from the other gods, I’m gonna feel way, way worse than I already do.”

The two gods trade a worried look, then nod.

“Okay. Just, if you get into trouble, tell them both of us are vouching for you. Even if we’re less terrifying than Minerva, it can’t hurt to try.”

“Thanks, Joseph.” Duck starts addressing Aubrey, wanting her to know he can’t ask this of her. 

The goddess shakes her head, “Nope, that won’t work on me. I can get myself in and out of the underworld no problem, and I’m not letting my friend go at it alone. Punishing yourself that way won’t bring Indrid back; it’ll just increase the chances you’ll never see him again.”

It’s hard to argue with that logic. 

Right now, Duck is glad she argued. Aubrey can cast bright enough lights for him to not lose the single path ahead of him. This is useful because the path is narrow and cuts through the center of an endless ravine. They inch forward, and when Duck nearly loses his footing to a crumbling edge, Aubrey casts walls up beside him. 

“Any idea how long this goes?”

“Not much further. See that light?”

“Yep.”

“We’re gonna go towards it.”

“Of course we are” Duck grumbles.

When they finally reach the light, he doesn’t find it blazing and divine, some dying star or collapsing inferno. He finds a moon, and his feet are no longer on the treacherous stone but on soft, welcoming soil. 

“It...it looks like the Monongahela.” 

“It is. Kinda.” Aubrey starts forward, following some path or memory Duck isn’t privy to, “this part of the underworld is supposed to keep the dead calm as they pass through, so it takes the form of the place they love best. I can only see it because you’re here; it doesn’t work like that for gods. We just see a, hmmmm, imagine you’re in a pool but it’s, like, also a very long hallway and the water slash walls keep keep changing color.”

“Damn. Uh, Aubrey? Please tell me that growlin’ is the cogs of the world turnin or somethin?”

“Nope.” 

The growl is bone-rattling now, the ground shaking as if a stampede is about to burst from the trees. Duck reaches for Beacon, then thinks better of it; he’s not inclined to trust the sword after what happened to Indrid. Minerva’s other gift is the way to go.

Just as he touches it, a hound the size of a house charges from the trees, coarse brown hair bristling and jaws snapping.

“Is that a-”

“AXEHOUND!” Aubrey runs forward and the beast skids to stop, dirt flying up around it. A wagging tail knocks over five trees as it dips its’ nose so Aubrey can rub it.

“Hey buddy! Awww, did you miss me? I bet you did, you’re such a good boy, yes you are.”

“Uh, Aubrey?”

At his voice, the dog growls. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay buddy, Duck’s with me” she waves hurriedly at him and, against all self-preservation instincts, he joins her. The Axehound snuffles at him, then doubles the speed of his tail. 

“He likes you!”

“Thank fuck. Guessin’ he’s the second line of security after the bridge?”

“Yep. Oh, I know, pick up that log over there” 

Duck hoists the cracked wood.

“Now throw it!”

He hurls the log into the woods, wobbles as the dog bounds after it. 

“The more he likes you, the easier it’ll be to get back through. And he loves fetch.”

As they wind through the woods, the Axehound brings the log back over and over again, and Duck obligingly throws it. By the time they reach a cliff edge, stone steps carved into the slope below, the hound is sprawled in the grass, gnawing on its prize. 

“Okay, I can get us down easy and save some time. Everyone except messenger gods has to go through the whole thing each time, but I found I can skip certain parts just fine.” She links their fingers, jumps, and they land a thousand feet below in heartbeat. Just on the horizon is a river, with a bridge of ornately carved black wood spanning it.

“The river of souls. Holy fuck, it’s huge.”

“It holds, like, most of the souls who die, of course it’s big. Deep, too.”

“Glad someone had the sense to build a bridge.”

“Yeeeah, about the bridge. That guy is new, so I have no idea what his deal is. You might wanna use Minerva’s gift now.”

He holds tight to the stone as they approach the bridge, Aubrey turning up her divine glow the instant the figure blocking the way sets his yellow, slit eyes on them. He’s all black, from his cloven feet to his clawed hands, opens his wings wide and thrashes his tail as they approach.

“What is your business here?” His accent is thick, similar to that of Duck’s old mentor.

“Hi, um, I’m Aubrey, goddess of fire, protector of orphans and, like, a dozen other things now. Who are you?”

“You may call me J.D” the creature bows, “I am sorry, your grace, but you may go no further than this.”

“Why? I came a few years ago for a visit and it was no big deal.”

“There have been rumors of insurrection, and the lady of the underworld will take no chances when it comes to the safety of her domain. No one save the dead may cross this river.”

“Oh, okay, that’s a bummer.” 

Three letters flicker for an instant on the inside of Duck’s eyes. 

R. U. N 

He sprints across the bridge, praying Aubrey’s voice and the water below will drown his footfalls. Hitting the far shore he peers around the edge of the bridge, waits for Aubrey to look his way, and lets the stone go long enough for her to see he’s across. The goddess waves goodbye to J.D, her glow fading as she starts on the path toward home. 

To be safe, Duck wanders out of sight of the bridge, along dirt roads and cobblestone walls, mounds of grass that glitter black and red instead of green. Exhilaration at his success is replaced by a thought that hits him like a collapsing ceiling. 

The underworld is vast, Indrid could be anywhere, and Duck is so very, very alone.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re sure he can help us?” Joseph takes in the Quonset hut, built with care but whose better days are far behind it.

“Positive” Barclay knocks on the door, “he knows more about the workings of the gods then, well, basically anybody but us gods ourselves. And if I’m right, he may even know things we don’t. Oh, uh, so you’re not surprised, he went looking for a sacred relic and experienced some, uh, unexpected side effects.”

“Such as?”

The door swings open, and a face with a grey beard and long grey hair pulled back in a braid grins at them, “Barclay! Glad you came ‘round, been too long.”

“Nice to see you too, Thacker. Joseph, this is Arlo Thacker, an old friend of Mama’s and mine. Thacker, this is Joseph. God of curiosity.”

The smile goes rapturous, and the man kneels in a bow, “It is an honor to meet you, your grace.”

“Likewise. And, um, it’s okay, there’s no need to bow.”

“Ohh, someone’s breaking the rules.” Barclay teases and Joseph elbows him playfully. As Thacker rises, he sees what the cook meant in his warning; the man is human from the waist up, sporting a shirt dyed in splotches of different colors. From the waist down, he’s a goat, hooves poking from his pant cuffs and a tail poking through near the belt. 

“Come on in! What can I do for you?”

“We want to know if there’s a way, any way at all, to awaken Sylvain.”

Thacker bumps into a chair, turning, “That’s a mighty tall order, sport.”

“We only need it to work long enough to plead our case. The other gods on the mountain are angry with me for crossing the gate to find Barclay, and they're threatening to strip us both of our powers. I know our mother wouldn’t approve. But they’ll only believe that if they hear it from her.

Thacker blows a raspberry, studying stacks of books on his table, “Always wondered if somethin like this would happen. Half the reason I went lookin for the relic that turned me Satyr was it was rumored to contain something about Sylvain no mortal knew. I’ll be right back. Oh, Barclay, I made some new GORP, it’s on the table, so help yourself!” He disappears into a back room.

“What’s GORP?”

Barclay shudders, “Something only he likes. I’m proud of his ingenuity with food but that doesn’t mean I have to eat it.”

Joseph takes a handful, chews, and then immediately spits it in the wastebasket. Barclay blinks, amused. 

“God of curiosity.”

“Finally found it, was under all my maps. This here is my pride and joy, the product of years of research, exploration, and gettin myself turned into a different species. And I got good news and bad news. Good news is, I’ll stake my life on there bein’ a way to reach Sylvain, at least temporarily. Bad news is, there are some quests still to be done. And they ain’t gonna be easy.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

Duck is pretty sure he’s been down this road once already. This section of the underworld is a formless meadow criss-crossed with dirt paths, and even his attempts to dig marks into the earth with his heel to mark which routes he’s taken come to nothing. 

A click draws his attention to the grass to his right. Hidden in the grass is a magpie, the white of its wings luminous in the half-darkness. 

“Hey little fella, you lost too?”

“Hardly, my dear boy, I am here to prevent _you_ from getting lost.”


	7. Orpheus Lacked Follow Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed this chapter title from a fic from another fandom because its' been stuck in my brain for months.

“.....NED?!”

“The very same. Though I must inform you that I must remain like this for the duration of our quest. To take a larger form would draw too much attention. Aubrey alerted me to fact other gods are no longer welcome here.”

“She sent you?”

Ned puffs up, “Hardly. She and I passed each other during her egress. I, ahem, I did not wish to leave my friends to face the underworld alone.”

Duck smiles for the first time all day. Or in several days. He honestly cannot tell how long he’s been wandering. When he offers his arm, Ned flaps up to his shoulder.

“I know the underworld well. With luck, we will find our precognitive friend soon. Now, close your eyes. This area is designed to be vast and disorienting for any souls who try to retreat back to the world. It will be easiest if I am the eyes of both of us until we reach the city.”

“You’re takin me straight to the Quell?”

“It strikes me as more expedient than wandering aimlessly. Go forward.”

“Fair. Just warn me if there are any rocks. And no gettin distracted by shiny things.”

“I am not actually a magpie. I’m Ned Chicane.”

“Like I said.”

From the curve of the path Ned directs him on, they’re on a switchback of some kind, and without the illusions there are peaks and valleys. Ned rambles on about the royal freak out his follower, Kirby, had when he learned the god who invented the first bestiary was in Kepler. It’s a welcome change from his own grim, inner monologue. 

They’re rounding a bend when Ned whispers, “Turn invisible, now.”

As Duck grips the stone, Ned flaps off his shoulder and there’s the scuff of a beak in the dirt. Footsteps grow closer, accompanied by a rustling of feathers. 

“My, I did not expect to see you here. It was not a likely future.” Soft clicks underscore the voice. 

“I’m still a messenger god. Technically. I mean, I never resigned, so I can come and go as I please.”

“You and I both know that is not quite true, Ned. But your secret is safe with me, as I am also going against the rules of the underworld. Which is why you need not keep hidden from me, Duck Newton. And you can open your eyes. 

Duck lets go of the talisman, blinking away afterimages from his vision. Then he jumps back; looming before him is the creature from the cave, the same black wings and glowing eyes, the antenna on its head twitching as they regard each other. 

“‘Drid?”

The mothperson bows, “Not quite. I am Indrids’ patron. If you wish to see him again, follow me.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

“When you say quests, do you mean the kind that are set for mortals that would be easy for gods?” Joseph looks over Thackers’ shoulder at the jumble of notes and drawings. 

“Nope. Well, probably be easier if you can whip up things you need outta thin air or travel in a blink, but the kicker is that every item’s gotta be given freely or it won’t work. So you can’t just appear and demand it on account of bein’ divine.”

“I’d rather get the honest way anyway. What kind of quests are we looking at?”

“You gotta find seven relics to complete the spell” Thacker produces rough drawings of each as he lists them off, “the Goblet of Time, the Sash of Demeter, the Stone of Wealth, the Staff of Protection, and the Oculus of Fantasy are all pretty straightforward: they’re items, and someone’s got ‘em. But the last two are trickier; you need the fire of life, and something from the lands of the dead.”

“But the 'fire of life' is another name for Sylvain. Needing her to awaken her is either a trick or a sign we’re doomed to fail.” Joseph runs a hand through his hair, sighing.

“Not necessarily. You said some of these things had been hidden even from gods, right Thacker? Maybe there’s something She left behind that we don’t know about yet. And I have even more good news” Barclay taps the picture of the sash, “we already have this one. Remember that kingdom a century ago who mistranslated some of our names as they handed them down to the next civilization?”

“I still don’t know how Minerva’s was the only one that they got right.”

“'Demeter' is Dani. She ties her hair up with that sash whenever she gardens.”

Thacker claps his hands together, “I knew the dang thing looked familiar! Gotta start comin around to see Maddie and the rest of you more often; the Pine Guard bein more active means I’ve fallen out of the habit of comin over, since y'all are always gone when I come."

Joseph stares at the other relics, locating them still an insurmountable task in his mind. His nails dig into his palms, a stress reaction he’s never been able to shake. Then warm, calloused fingers gently open his hands to hold them. 

“We’ll figure it out babe. And you gotta know the others will help us. We can do this. Just, uh, just think of it like a giant research project.”

Joseph laughs softly, a little embarrassed by the fact the reframe works, “I guess it is. In that case, would it be alright if we used your library, Thacker?”

The satyr laughs, excited, “It would be an honor.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

“Didn’t know there were other gods down here beside the Quell.” Duck studies the mothperson from the corner of his eye as they walk towards a rock face. 

“There is no reason we cannot. Most deities stay on Mount Kepler, but this is as much a possible home as that is. I find it suites me better.”

“So you’re the god of...seers?”

A chirped laugh, “Not quite. I was one of the first gods created, with the purpose of being the god of fate. But The Quell and Sylvain determined that giving any being that much power was dangerous. And so they altered my powers to be the god of prophecy. Not a bad trade all things considered. For a time, I took a very hands-on approach to the role. But...well, how did you react when you saw Indrid in the cave?”

“Thought he was a monster.” The shame of the memory burns him. Ned pats his head with his wing in an attempt at comfort. 

“Many humans shared that reaction, and my attempts to intervene in events resulted in as many disasters as it did successes. So I decided to retire here, and gift certain humans my powers in the hopes they’d be listened to without the unwanted side effects.”

“Yeah, and stuck in their temples putting up with nonsense to keep themselves fed.”

The god stops, head spinning to stare at him as he poofs up “I did not make the rules that govern the seers. Blame your own kind, or the gods of the mountain, for that.” 

“Look, at least my patron checks in on me now and then without giving me a task. You just left Indrid to fend for himself in a temple. No guidance, no protection, _nothin_.”

A sigh, “I am aware. Half the reason I kept him from the river of souls was in apology for my failure to protect him.”

“The other half because you felt bad for makin’ him look like you?”

“I did no such thing. Whoever spoke to him and changed him, it was not me.”

“Hearin that a lot lately.” Duck trades a skeptical look with Ned. 

“My other reason was I do not think what happened to him was a mere fluke. Indrid dying all the way would serve some nefarious purpose, one that eludes my sight, like trying to see a mountain veiled in snow.”

“Why the fuck was he in that cave?” Duck murmurs to himself as they arrive at a cave mouth. Instead of grim, bare stone, the walls and ceiling glitter with tiny lights, beautiful pictures line the walls, and the ground is coated with thick blankets and giant pillows. 

“Ask him yourself.”

Sitting on a deep green, silk cushion, Indrid sketches on a pad of paper. It’s not until Duck’s feet start towards him that he raises his head. He’s without his glasses, so there’s nothing to keep Duck from seeing tears. 

“You came for me” Indrid whispers. 

Duck doesn’t answer with words, throws himself forward with every ounce of energy left in him to fall to the ground in front of his lost love.

“I said I always would and I meant it. Please” he takes Indrid’s hands, bows so his forehead touches them, “I, I’m so fuckin sorry, I, I don’t know if you can ever forgive me, you don’t have to, just, I had to try, I had to come for you. I had to make it right.”

Cold fingers pull loose from his and his heart sinks to the core of the world. 

Then they cup his cheeks, guiding his head up to meet loving, red eyes. 

“My love, you are not the only one who must ask forgiveness. I ought to have stayed in the temple, ought to have told you what befell me. But I heeded the voice from the pool when it ordered me to go to the cave in the silver hills, my panic convincing me you would hate me in my new form.”

“Never. I love you as you are, sugar, and I’d love you in that form too.”

“Even as I hid in the dark, even as the transformation stole my voice away and left me without words to call out, I hoped you would come for me. I waited because the voice ordered me to, yes, but more than that I waited for you.”

Indrid, waiting in fear and shadows, hoping for rescue, hoping to see him. And Duck greeted him with a blade. The image cracks the dam of his tears and he crumples forward, clinging to the seer as willowy arms hold him close. 

“I do not blame you, my love. You were tricked, and something else moved against me in that moment.”

“I, I shoulda recognized you, shoulda known you on sight, shoulda forced out whoever took hold of Beacon from me.”

“And I should have stayed long enough to tell you.”

“That don’t excuse-”

“Dearest” Indrid pulls back, wiping tears from his cheeks, “if we keep on like this we will never get home. We’ll stay here begging each other’s forgiveness until the end of time.” 

It’s a dry, matter of fact tone he thought he’d never hear again, and he bursts into a laugh, the two of them rocking back and forth as Indrid catches his mouth in a kiss. 

“Okay, enough mushy stuff” Duck grins, still sniffling, “let’s get you outta here.”

“That is easier said than done, I am afraid.” At the gods’ voice, they remember they’re not alone.

“You gonna try and stop me?” Duck growls. 

“Not in the least. But getting someone to the land of the living requires a very specific process. Otherwise, people would be running down to retrieve a loved one every day. If you do not follow the steps to the letter, Indrid will come right back here, or will not be able to cross the final threshold. You must perform a test of faith. Or of resolve, depending on how you view it.

“At this point, do I really gotta say I’d do anythin to get him back?”

The god smiles, “I am aware. What you must do is this: you will walk out of the underworld, and Indrid will walk behind you. He cannot speak, cannot touch you, and you cannot look behind you until you reach his body.”

“Fuck, your body is all the way at the lodge!” 

“Not for long” Ned spreads his wings, “I will make certain it is right where it needs to be.”

The magpie zips out of the cave and into the perpetual twilight sky. 

“Mortals have been quite the influence on him” the remaining god murmurs, “are the rules clear?”

“Yep. Aw fuck, Ned was how I got through that whole stretch. This might, uh, take awhile.” He holds Indrid’s hand, saving up the feeling for the task ahead. 

The patron steps closer, sets a hand on each of their shoulders, “I am not without power here. I will carry you as far as the edge of the hallway--what you, Duck, experienced as the forest--and the test will begin there. I do not know what meddled with my seer, nor our powers, nor your goddess, but I would very much enjoy thwarting it. Let us-” he freezes mid-sentence, face in a formless expression that Duck knows from Indrid. 

“One moment, there is something else we need.” Muttering chirps bounce off the walls as the god digs through a box. Returning with one clenched fist, he drops the contents into Indrid’s pocket, “you will see the use of this when you get home. Are you both ready?”

The lovers exchange a determined look, “Yeah, we are.”

Duck is not expecting to be literally carried, but the god lifts Indrid and him into the air with ease, traveling the land it took Duck ages to cover in a matter of minutes. When they arrive at the edge of the woods, he sets them down. 

“The test begins as soon as you cross the treeline. While I no longer control the currents of fate, know that I am, ah, rooting for you” he grins, “good luck.”

Indrid takes Duck’s hand, “Just remember, you’re not alone. I’m here. And I’ll be here each step of the way.”

A final kiss, and the seer takes his place behind him. The forest remains an eerily perfect replica of the Monongahela, and he’s grateful his happy place is one where crunching leaves and dirt reassure him Indrid is there. The Axehound bounds gracelessly from the trees, but any fear Duck has that it will attack him for trying to free Indrid disappears when it wriggles happily.

“Hey big fella. Can’t stop to play this time.”

The hound cocks it’s head, _boofs_ once, and lopes back into the forest. Duck cannot prove that the path is much clearer this time around, the easier to lose patches cleared of brush and made more visible with the aid of giant paws, but he chooses to believe so. 

Reaching the edge of the narrow bridge and endless darkness, he stops to weigh his options. There’s no way around, no trick or help to call on. Just his own, stubborn feet. 

“Step by step.” He says aloud. 

This philosophy works until crumbling stone rattles behind him. He nearly turns, terrified that Indrid is falling, catches himself at the last second. But the sudden movement throws off his balance. The bottomless fall looms closer for the worst millisecond of his life, his body fighting to regain equilibrium. It settles on sending him forward, knees banging into dusty stone. Behind him, he gets the sudden sense that Indrid is still there, hands clamped over his mouth to keep from rendering this all pointless. 

“Okay” he catches his breath, begs his heart to return to a normal rate, “we’ll take it even slower.”

He crawls, eyes on nothing but that path before him. Grey dust burrows under his fingernails, the knees of his pants tear stitch by stitch, his nose goes dry and his breathing hard as they fill with dry air and dust. And still, he crawls. 

When his hands find the blessedly wide edge of the ravine, he once again fights against a glance back. They’re so close. The hard part is over. 

The energy of the journey and resisting the impulse to check on Indrid is too much for even his strength, his climb of the stairs back to the entrance as labored as an ascent of Mount Kepler. The boarded up entrance sends a groan of frustration burbling through him. 

“Beacon, I’m gonna use you, but if you don’t fuckin behave I will melt you down.” He sets a hand on his belt, reels back when sunlight bursts across his eyes. 

“Thank fuck.” He stumbles forward, Dani steadying him. Directly in front of him, Mama sits next to Indrid’s body and Aubrey gnaws a fingernail. 

“I did it. I think. I ain’t sure I can look yet, is he behind me?”

The women glance at each other, then at him with sympathy. 

“There’s no one there, Duck.”

He whirls, heart snapping in two upon seeing the truth. Indrid must have fallen on the bridge. He did everything right, and he still couldn’t save him. 

“I’m so sorry” Aubrey hugs him as he shakes and shudders, unsure whether he’ll scream or weep. 

Mama gasps, an unfamiliar sound if there ever was one. 

“Don’t start mournin just yet, kiddo.”

Indrids’ chest rises and falls, faint at first then growing to proper breaths. His eyes blink open, then shut again, “Goodness, has it always been this bright?”

It’s too much. Duck drops to the ground, overwhelmed, hugging himself until Indrid crawls close enough to do it for him. 

“I feel the same, my sweet. Gods, I nearly lost you down there, and the moment my brain processes that fully I’ll be a blubbering mess.”

“C’mon” Mama, Dani, and Aubrey join them in the grass, “let’s go home.”

The world swims, then there’s nothing but worn wooden boards under his legs and the smell of coffee and cloves. 

“Sorry about the sudden appearance.” Aubrey smiles sheepishly at Moira, who simply waves a hand and goes back to filling orders from the stove. 

Indrid looks around, inhaling deeply and tilting his head to better hear the muffled, gentle din of conversation from the restaurant, “Ah, that’s done it.” Tears pour out of his eyes as he buries his face in Duck’s shoulder, gasping, “I’m home. We’re home.”

Fine shoes hurry into view, Ned cheering when he spots them. There’s another swirl of power, and he and Indrid look up as one to see Barclay and Joseph, arms overloaded with books and scrolls. 

“Thank Sylvain” Barclay drops the books on the floury table, hoisting the two of them into a hug, “I was so fucking worried about you guys.”

“Looks like y’all had some luck.” Mama hangs her hat by the door, sitting heavily down in the nearest chair. 

Joseph nods, eyes a little watery as he smiles, “We did. But what we found can wait. Tonight, I think everyone deserves some rest.”

END OF PART ONE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: this has become a more complex fic than I already planned and the second half needs reworking. So, I'll be doing that while also doing a much fluffier, smuttier fic for February.


	8. Reclics

For once, Josephs’ version of rest is actually restful. Barclay expected to return to his room and find his lover submerged in notes. Instead, Joseph flopped down onto the, laying on his side in an unfairly alluring pose as he asked Barclay to show him his current favorite culinary delights. 

The stars peering in through the window find them seated on a checkered blanket on the floor, food spread out between them. Barclay conjured a selection of delicacies, from far flung corners of the planet to those that can be found just down the street. Joseph samples and sighs, sips the honeyflower cordial Barclay pours him, and generally relaxes into the floor with each bite of food. 

He also laughs more than usual. The cordial may play a role, though there’s only a drop of mead in it. Barclay suspects the culprit is their earlier altercation with the gods on the mountain. Joseph debates, Joseph argues, but seldom does Joseph outright defy. Barclay knows the thrill of it, the giddiness that follows when you challenge someone and survive, and so he laughs too. 

He also laughs with relief. Because the Joseph he knew two years ago believed in rules. That belief fueled Barclays’ resignation that, when the mountain cut itself off, he might never see his love again. Yet here he sits, tangible, with new rebellion in his eye and lips curving in a smile every time he eats. 

Barclay loves watching him eat. He’s effusive in his praise, and at times Barclay wonders if created all the foods and ingredients he did for the sole purpose of making Joseph smile. That would have been self-serving, even for a god, as Joseph eating is also one of the most erotic sights ever to grace his eyes. 

As he listens to Joseph talk between mouthfuls, a memory creeps from the corner of his mind.

_“I’ll see you tomorrow” Barclay cups Joseph's cheek. The other god pulls his hand away and down, kissing his palms. Then lips trail down to his wrist._

_“Have I ever told you how much I love your hands?”_

_“No? OH” he chuckles as the lips drag up to his thumb, Joseph sucking it with a moan, “that kind of love, huh?”_

_“Yes, big guy, that kind. I love how big they are, how they feel, how fucking gentle they are for all their strength.”_

_Barclay brings two more fingers up, pushing them into Josephs’ mouth, “Then how about my hands and I come inside for a few minutes?”_

His hands were such a part of their sex life that he’d nearly forgotten that moment. And Josephs’ been without them for years. 

“Here, babe, I got a few more things for you to try.” Four small, silver jars appear in a line by Barclays’ legs. 

“We better do it soon, I’m getting full. Another side effect of mortality that I could do without. You know how much I like gorging on your food all night.”

Barclay bites back the suggestion that he’d like to see him try, like to feed him until his belly stretched from how well provided for he was. Like to fuck him like that, bury himself deep in his well-fed mate. 

“Barclay?” 

“Hmm? Oh, uh, sorry, got lost in thought.”

“Don’t wander too far, I want to see what else you have for me.”

He undoes the first lid, pulls out three small, red berries, the centers of which have been filled with chocolate cream. When he holds them out in his palm Joseph reaches for one. He closes his palm back up before he can. Joseph sends a questioning look his way.

“That’s not the way I want you to take ‘em, babe.”

A smirk from his lover as he sets his hands in his lap and leans forward. The first berry is plucked away with ease and finesse, a soft moan escaping when he swallows. The next two get the same treatment, the smaller god taking them with such control Barclay wonders if his hands have lost their magic. Then a kiss tickles his palm right before Joseph sits back. 

“What else do you have for me, big guy?”

The second tin holds thin squares of chocolate, each with a bright purple swirl of dragonberry syrup folded into the shiny brown. This time, when he holds out his hand, Joseph leans forward instantly. The sweet is so thin he has no choice but to use his tongue to lift it to his mouth.

“Mmmmmm” he hums, “they really have done wonders with sugar and cocoa, haven’t they?”

“Uh huh. You want another?”

“I should pace myself. What’s in the next tin?” His eyes sparkle as he follows the movement of Barclays hand. The third tin contains clear liquid, which puzzles him until Barclay holds it up so he can smell. 

“Nectar?”

“Yep, the one from up North that we fell in love with decades ago.” The inn had been half buried in snow, the proprietor proud of his large hearth and nectar that he swore even gods would love. Barclay never told him how right he was. 

Carefully, he tips some of the liquid into his cupped palm.

“Open.”

Joseph parts his lips, closes his eyes, and Barclay raises onto his knees, lets the nectar roll down his hand and drip from his fingertips. Most of it lands on a waiting tongue, but several drops fall short and slide down his chin or catch the corners of his mouth. Blue eyes stay shut as he licks the stray drops away with a sigh. Barclays’ cock, content up until this moment with a low thrum of arousal, stirs at the sight.

“Last one.” He pops the final lid off. 

“Yes.” Joseph scoots forward when he sees the thick, coffee-colored sauce. It’s caramel, taken right to the edge of burnt, smokey and toffeeish in taste the way his lover likes it. 

“You want some, babe?” he dips his middle finger into the sticky-sweet liquid, pulls out when it’s coated, “come get it.”

Joseph lunges forward, capturing his wrist to guide the finger into his mouth. He sucks hard, tongues down to the base, locking eyes with Barclay all the while. The cook growls, yanks him closer by the front of his shirt. 

_Crunch_

He waves away the rest of dinner, including the plate of crackers crushed under Josephs’ knee. The other man climbs into his lap, pulling off his finger to kiss his way down his hand and up his forearm. 

“I missed your hands, sweet Sylvain I missed them so much.”

“They missed you too.” The one not currently being coated in kisses wraps around the base of his skull, pulling his hair and putting light pressure on his neck. 

“AHahnnnn, yes” his mouth falls open and Barclay fucks into it with three fingers.

“This want you want, blue eyes, want me to take you apart with these hands?”

“‘ease”

Barclay pushes him backwards, growling, and Joseph opens his legs. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He removes his hand from his mouth so he can get a clear answer.

“Yes, Barclay, I do.”

“Prepping you would take one hand out of commission.”

“Shit.”

“Unless…” Barclay grins as Josephs’ eyes turn to saucers. 

“Th-that, how have we never done that beforeOHohshit.” His hips jerk up and down as Barclay fucks him open without even touching him, using his power stretch and slick him up. 

“Glad it’s working. Now” their shirts disappear, reappear folded on the bed, “let me show you just how much these hands missed you.”

A broken moan splits the air as one hand returns to Josephs’ mouth, fingers pressing into it and teasing across it, gathering spit-slicked kisses and love bites as they go. The other roams across his body, familiar possessiveness filling him with every pass along the lines and curves that make up the man he loves. Joseph's fingers latch onto his sides, catching at the dark hair as they drag tender scratches up his ribs and down his chest. 

When Barclay ghosts his hand over the bulge in Josephs’ pants, he whines. 

“Barclay, please, you’re driving me wild.”

“Yeah? Want my hands here too?”

“Yes” it’s so emphatic Barclay laughs.

“What’s so funny, big guy?”

“God of curiosity my ass. Shoulda called yourself god of the needy.”

“We can work on the title change _after_ you make me cum.” Joseph mock growls, only for his voice to reduce to breathy moans as Barclay banishes his pants to the corner and strokes his cock. 

“Gonna hold you to that. Fuck” he watches as an invisible cock drives into the man beneath him, “that’s a sight. You look so fucking good like this baby, one of these days I’m gonna tie you down and fuck you this same way. Go about my day and just pause to admire the show, maybe jack off while I watch this pretty little ass spread open over and over and cum on it just for fun. With breaks to, uh, feel you up of course” his hand dips down to tease his balls, “gotta give you your fill of these hands, after all.”

“Shit, yes, I, I s-swear the instant we’ve solved this mess we’re going into a bedroom and not coming out for a month.”

“ _A_ bedroom? Just gonna commandeer the nearest sleeping space so we can fuck like bulls in spring huh.”

“I’m not that pickyEEEh, fuck, I’m close.”

Barclay snorts, “You’re picky alright babe. But I like it. Like a guy who knows what he wants. Especially when what he wants is me.”

A sharp gasp and Joseph cums on his stomach, whimpering when Barclay draws his hand up the shaft one final time. Without hesitation, he shoves the cum-streaked fingers into that waiting mouth. Without hesitation, Joseph cleans them with his tongue. 

“Fuck you look good with your mouth full” his voice is rough, rumblier than usual.

“Then come up here and fill it.” Joseph pants. 

He can’t get his fly open fast enough, the other god having to help him with shaky fingers once he’s in position. His knees sit near Josephs’ ears while loving hands paw at his ass and thighs.

“All the way?” They haven’t done this since Joseph turned mortal, and he’d hate for it to end painfully. 

“Yes. I’ll snap twice if it’s too much.” He opens wide and Barclay pushes his cock forward, groaning at the welcome heat. Grunts when he finds the resistance of his throat, forcing himself to wait until Joseph relaxes beneath him. Then he presses on, the head of his cock finding its’ home in his throat while the base stretches his lips. 

“Hold on tight.” He murmurs, and Joseph clings to his ass, nails digging into the meat of it on the first thrust. Barclay cups his head, holding it steady as his cock slides in and out, spit already seeping from the corner of Josephs’ mouth. And a harder thrust he gags a moment, and Barclay freezes. Instead of the signal to stop, he gets a light smack on the ass. 

That breaks what’s left of his composure. 

Grunts thud against his grit teeth and his fucks hard and all the way over and over again, Joseph jolting and gurgling but never once calling for a stop. In a matter of minutes he’s close, little howlgrowls spilling from him as Joseph goes limper in his hold. 

“That’s it babe, fuck, don’t care what they say you’re made for, what you’re really fucking made for is this, is taking my cock down your throat so hard you can’t talk for days. Yeah, _fuck_ yeah, Joseph, baby, take it all the way, that’s it, that’s-fuck, _fuck_.” He hunches over as he cums, orgasm roaring through him and shooting down Josephs throat. Another fantasy flashes through him, of doing this so many times that Josephs’ belly swells with cum. 

He groans out a final “fuck” and sits back, Joseph gulping down air as soon as he’s free. 

“Was that MPhmmmmm” Barclay doesn’t get to finish his question. 

“That was wonderful, big guy.” Joseph whispers into the kiss. 

“Fuck, uh, your voice does sound kind of raw. I’m sorry.” He blushes, hiding his face in Josephs’ shoulder.

“Make me some tea with honey and we’ll call it ever.”

A ceramic mug, steam curling from the top, appears in the cooks hand. 

\---------------------------------------------

“Right” Joseph stands before a map of Kepler and the surrounding kingdoms, his notes from their visit to Thacker set to his right, “these are the items we need if Barclay and I want any chance of not being killed by our pissed-off brethren. We have one, courtesy of Dani.” 

The goddess removes the green and bronze ribbon from her hair, waves it once, and then lets it weave it’s way back into her golden locks. 

“That leaves six more: thanks to Thacker’s library, we know the location of three more. The stone is in the kingdom of Huntington, probably in the possession of the royal family itself. The staff is in the control of the scholars of the Starry Pass between Kepler and the coast. And the Oculus is owned by the lords of the Northwoods.”

“Creative name.” Indrid says dryly. 

“That still leaves three items. The Fire of Life, the Chalice of Time, and an item from the land of the dead. I have no idea where they are. Or, in the case of the fire, _what_ they are. So I am _extremely_ open to suggestions or theories on those.”

Indrid raises his hand, “Do I count as an item from the land of the dead?”

“Nope, we asked Thacker if he thought that counted, and from the research he’s done ‘item’ means something inanimate.” Barclay sets a tray laden with tea cups and a teapot at the center, steam rising from it with a wave of his hand. 

“Glad y’all had faith I’d get him back.” Duck pours tea from the pot and heaps sugar into it, passing it to Indrid. 

“Never doubted it, given your track record for arguing with deities.” Barclay sets a fond hand on his shoulder.

Indrid taps his chin, then leaps up and bolts from the room, yelling “one moment” over his shoulder. 

“While our seer chases, ah, whatever he’s chasing, I think it is time I divulge what I, ahem, relieved Woodbridge off the last time I snuck atop the mountain.”

Barclay drops the spoon he’s using to prepare Josephs’ tea, “The goblet? Is it-”

“The Chalice of Time? Yes, dear boy, it is.”

“Um, why did you take it? Not that I’m complaining, because he is the last person I want with that kind of power.” Aubrey shoos Dr. Harris Bonkers away from the plate of cookies.

“In truth? To see if I could. While I’ve turned my activities towards the lawful of late, I am, and always will be, the God of Thieves.”

“Where’s the goblet now?” Joseph crosses it off the list.

“Hidden in my nearest temple. I will retrieve it posthaste.” With that, the older god disappears. 

Just as he does, Indrids’ muttering comes from the garden path. Duck hops up, hurries to the door and opens it before Indrid can run his shoulder into it and do the same. The seer holds a pair of crumpled, bloodstained pants, fighting with the deep pocket. 

“Why is--aha, no, damn it--it so small? Ha!” He pulls his hand out, triumphantly clinking its content onto the table. At the center of the map is now a silver bell, barely the size of a thimble. 

“My patron slipped it into my pocket before we left. I would say that fits the definition of an item from the underworld.” The seer beams.

“Yes!” Joseph nearly tosses his notepad with excitement. 

Ned reappears, white as ghost, “There’s been a slight...issue.”

“No!” 

“Indeed.” Ned gnaws his fingernails, “the goblet, along with several other items of mine, are gone. No doubt stolen by a follower looking to prove their mettle. I shall soon set it right.”

“Okay, we still have two of the seven. That’s...not a horrible start?”

“Honestly, Aubrey, you’re right.” Joseph slumps back into his chair, “given that these are designed to be difficult to locate, we’re well ahead of where we could be. With that in mind, my vote is we go after the stone first. Huntington is a fairly welcoming kingdom, which works in our favor given that we have to go in pretending to be mortal. Or, um, some of us will have to. Everyone in favor?”

The entire tables raises their hands.

“Great. Everyone rest up, and we’ll meet in the garden at sunrise tomorrow.”

\-----------------------------------------------------

“You wish to find the Stone of Wealth? That can be done.” The king of Huntington steps from his chair, a clap of the hands summoning a wide brimmed hat, “follow me.”

The sextet (Ned and Mama stayed behind, Mama to run the Lodge and Ned to locate his missing treasures) joins him outside. 

“Do you see those gardens?” 

“Yeah?” Duck keeps a protective arm around Indrids’ waist, eyeing the massive grounds to the South of the ring of curved, elegant buildings that make up the castle.

“The stone sits at the center of them. Any who wish to try may venture in after it. But be warned, the gardens have a mind of their own, and a beast that lurks near its heart. Do you still wish to look for it?”

“We don’t really have a choice.” Barclay sighs. 

“As you wish. My guards will show you to the entrance. Gods be with you.”

“That part at least we can do.” Dani mutters. Aubrey winks at her. 

The entrance turns out to be an archway, taller than Ducks’ house and coated in wild roses. It’s wide enough that they all step through it together.

And then there’s no one beside him but Joseph. 

He raises an eyebrow at the former god, "Fairly welcoming huh?" 

A groan, "I hate being wrong."


	9. Talk of Virtue, Talk of Sin

“Fuck” Barclay stumbles sideways, colliding with Indrid and sending them both to the ground. The two of them are alone in a circle of lilac bushes big enough to blot out much of the sky. 

“Any time this disruption of my visions wants to stop is fine by me.” Indrid grumbles, standing before Barclay can offer him a hand. 

“Guess there’s nothing for it but to start walking. You wanna pick a direction and just try it?”

The seer nods, and they wander further into the gardens. The lilacs give way to tall hedges dotted with white blossoms. The sharp scent of juniper fills the air, and the plants offer welcome shade from the growing heat. Now and then a sapling appears, springing from the ground and heavy with fruit, and were this not a garden with ulterior, or at least chaotic, motives Barclay would stop to sample them. 

When they reach a crossroads, Indrid stops, breathing deep with eyes shut. 

“Left” he turns and Barclay follows. They repeat the process at each split of the path, and at the fourth one Indrid is still half in a vision as he starts moving. His toe catches a root, tumbles forward only for Barclay to catch his arm. 

“You okay?”

“I’m _fine_.” Indrid snaps, wrenching his arm free and starting forward. His determined gait slows after only five steps. Barclay falls in next to him, and the seer sighs, “I..I’m sorry, Barclay. I am just a little, ah, weary of being treated as if I am fragile.”

“Guess there is a weird thing where people treat oracles as sort of, uh, precious?”

“It’s not that. Not really. This is more of a recent development. From one person.”

“Duck?” The question is quiet, and when Indrid stops walking Barclay does the same. 

“Yes. Ever since we got back he has been rather...well, it feels a bit like being a rare moth in a jar. He’s gentle and careful in how he handles me, attends to me constantly, as if the slightest change might render me broken. It is maddening.”

“Indrid, it’s only been a few days. And you, you didn’t see him after you died. He was inconsolable, he blamed-”

“-himself for my death yes I am aware. And he will continue to do so no matter how many times I tell him I do not blame him for it. I cannot bear the thought of a life where he only gives me the softest of touches, where he does everything for me as if that will keep the world bay. If it’s going to be like that I, I may as well sequester myself back in the temple!” His hands cut up and down in the air as if trying to shake the frustration loose from his bones. When Barclay doesn’t respond right away, the seer slumps onto a nearby bench, drawing his knees to his chest. 

“Have you told him any of this?” The god sits close to him, runs a comforting hand along his shoulders. 

“No” Indrid mumbles into his kneecaps, “it would be cruel. He’s only trying to help.”

“Look, this isn’t a perfect comparison, not by a long shot, but the fact Joseph is mortal right now scares me. There’s so much shit that could take him away from me now. Worse than that, I’m still a god. I could hurt him without meaning to so, so easily. I like to think I’m pretty good at suppressing the urge to shield him all the time. But if he ever feels like you do right now, I want him to tell me. I’d want to make sure I was loving him in a way that felt like love, you know?”

Indrid cocks his head, eyes clear behind his glasses, “I do. You’re very wise, god of the hearth. If I did not already have a patron, you would be my first choice to follow.”

Barclay draws him into a hug, “Nah. Don’t need you as a follower. It’s way better having you as a friend.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck, _fuck_ , I really fuckin hope ‘Drid ain’t by himself.” Duck hurries through the rows of a rose garden, Joseph somewhere behind him. 

“Duck.”

“The king fuckin said there’s a monster in here somewhere! What the fuck?”

“Duck.”

“And we ain’t allowed to use magic! What if it attacks him and the others and they can’t fight back. Shoulda held onto him, fuckin’ weird-ass garden with it’s fuckin-”

“DUCK!” Joseph hates raising his voice, but this is ridiculous. The demigod stops, whirling on him.

“ _What_?” 

“The rose garden is rearranging itself as we move. If we keep navigating the rows, we’ll be walking in this same square forever. So” he points to a hedge, the only plant in view without thorns, “I suggest we go through there and hope it takes us somewhere else.”

Duck muscles through the greenery, bringing them into a field of clover. Purple Irises dot the green ground, oak trees obscuring any ability to take in the layout of the garden. 

“Any ideas?”

“As long as we can use the sun, we can use it to keep a clear sense of direction, even if the garden tries disorienting us.”

“Okay” Duck holds a hand up to shield his eyes, “We wanna go east, since that woulda been the center from where we started. So we can...what the fuck is that?”

Joseph follows his arm to a shape in the trees. It’s a bird, black feathers splashed with bright pink and orange. This is not the remarkable part. 

“It’s flyin’ backwards.”

“It must be a-”

A squawk as the bird collides with a tree trunk, falling to the ground.

“-Goofus bird.” Joseph finishes as Duck jogs to the foot of the tree.

“Didn’t know those were still around.”

“As you can see, there are some issues with their, um, ability to survive.”

“Hey there fella, let’s take a look at you.” Duck picks the bird up, holding it gingerly as he checks its’ wings, “don’t look like anything’s broken.”

“Nothin broken.” The bird replies in a perfect version of Ducks’ accent. 

“Strange, I don't remember them being mimics.”

“I’m not. I just like doing voices.” It hops up Ducks’ shoulder, “can we get the fuck out of here?”

“Only if you know the way. We’re still working it out.”

“Well....fuck.” The bird hangs its head, “Guess it’s back to running into fucking trees for me.”

“Nah” Duck pets a patch of orange feathers. Up close, the colored splotches look like flowers, “you can ride here a bit. Okay, Joe, let’s get movin’; sooner I find ‘Drid, the better I’ll feel.”

\----------------------------------------------

“Do you hear that?” Indrid winces, shakes his head and puts his hands over his ears. 

“Yep” Barclay covers his as well. The high-pitched whistle continues, jamming past his hands and ringing right down to his skull. 

“Thank goodness, I was worried it was some side effect of my trip below.”

The god wanders forward, peering into bushes and around tree trunks, hoping to locate the source of the sound and shut it off. His search ends at a white marble fountain. Laid on the ground is a tattered blanket, a sun-worn picnic basket, and thermos without a top, it’s contents long ago evaporated. 

Lifting the basket reveals a rat-sized animal. It falls silent and freezes, staring up at Barclay with black rimmed eyes. Against the blonde of it’s fur, the markings remind him of spectacles. 

“What is it?”

He sorts through years of conversion with Joseph, with their journeys into woods and across oceans in search of new creatures. 

“A Teakettler. At least that’s the common name.”

“My kettle is never that unpleasant.”

“I’m right here!” The rodent raises onto it’s hind legs, arms crossed. 

“Oh! My apologies, I was simply making an observation.” The seer kneels, holding out his palms, “would you like to join us up here?”

“That depends. Do you work for the king.”

“No.”

“Cool.” It clambers into his hands, looking between him and the god as he stands, “that guy’s an asshole.”

“Yeah, not our favorite either. What he do to you?”

“Lured me in here and had his enchanter turn me into some tiny thing that screams when anxious. Wanna know the worst part? I designed this fucking thing!” It waves a paw at the gardens, “followed all his super-complicated specifications and this is the payoff!”

“Does that mean you know how to navigate it?”

“Yeah, but because it’s designed to be tricky for humans, it’s fucking murder like this.”

“Do you want to navigate it while I carry you?”

“Yeah bud, I do.” It sounds exasperated as it scrambles onto the top of Indrids head, “go that way.”

“Why did he have you make this?” Barclay roots around his pants pockets, pulling out a bag of nuts and dried fruit and holding some where the Teakettler can take it. 

“He told me it was supposed to be for the whole kingdom; it would be like a park and a game all in one. A maze with lots of hidden surprises and challenges, but that you could get out of with a single word. I design puzzles and have a little enchanting skill, so he came to me and asked me to do it. Surprise, surprise, the 'secret word' was bogus and it turns out he wanted a place to toss prisoners that didn’t look like a prison. And I got to be front of the line.”

“That sucks. We’ll get you out, I promise.”

“By the by, do you happen to know anything about the monster at the center?”

“...he added a fucking MONSTER?”

“Yes.”

“Aw beans.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

“What exactly happens if we use magic?”

“We get poofed right back to the starting point.” Aubrey steps around a cactus jutting into the path. She and Dani are making decent progress to the center; the goddess of plants can communicate with them at such a subtle, constant level that it hardly counts as magic. So she’s followed the signals of the plants, used certain ones as headings even as the paths doubled back or came to dead ends. 

“Dang. I’d really rather not have to wander around once we find the stone to find everyone else.”

“Maybe we wait at the center until they get there? If it all looks like this, it could be a cool place to hang out.” Aubrey gestures to the succulent garden, plants of grey-green and rosy pink spreading in geometric shapes across rocky soil, “oooh, maybe we could plant some of these back at the Lodge.”

“Only if I want to get lectured by Duck about appropriate growing conditions again.”

Aubrey snickers, then points excitedly at a towering succulent with pointed leaves and bright yellow flowers. Peering around the base is a feline face, the size of a housecat. 

“Here kitty, here kittykitty” the goddess holds out a hand. After a false start, the creature dashes forward, the hairs on its back too rigid and purple to be fur.

“It’s a cactus cat. Wow, I haven’t seen one of these in ages.” Dani bends down, rubbing the furry forehead. 

“Oh thank god someone knows what I am. I thought I was a messed up porcupine.” The cat says with an earnest voice more fitting to a grown man than a small mammal, “have you seen two guys? Or, um, maybe two other things that look like me?”

“No? Did you get separated from your friends?” Aubrey sits down, allowing the cat to climb into her lap. 

“Kinda. My brother designed this maze, but he got trapped. My other brother and I came to look for him, but we got trapped too. The garden split us up and then someone turned me into this. I mean, I can think of worse things, I’m really more of a dog person.”

“Well, you’re in luck! We’ve gotta get through the gardens anyway, so we can help you find your brothers while we do. Want me to carry you?”

“Yes please. I was looking for food all night, so I’m a sleepy boy.” The cat curls around Aubrey's shoulders, “and unless the gardens literally reversed its layout since last night, take a left by that cactus that kinda looks like a bear and we should be on the right track.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Huh, never heard of that fella. Have to give him a listen the next time he passes through town.” Duck picks his way around a thicket of brambles. 

“Your knowledge of his song catalogue is, um, impressive.” Joseph adds, muttering when his shirt catches a thorn.

“I had a case of the Mondays” is all the bird gets out before Duck holds up a hand for silence. 

“You hear voices?”

“Yes. In fact they sound like-”

“‘Drid!” Duck takes off down the path, the bird squawking and flapping to keep its balance. The seer comes into view just as he bursts into a wide, circular lawn, and is in his arms before he even registers who else is there. 

“Thank the fuckin gods you’re okay.”

“You’re welcome.” Barclay says, amused, from somewhere to his left. Then, much softer, “glad you made it okay, babe.”

“Fuck, I was so fuckin worried” He mumbles into Indrids chest. 

An unfamiliar voice breaks into his ear, “Guys, can we maybe not crush me to death as part of your reunion.” 

He pulls back, finds a small mammal clinging to the front of Indrid’s shirt.

“I, ah, started running when I heard your voice and he lost his balance. Apologies, oh, hello there.” Indrid blinks as the bird leans into his space, peering down. 

“Brother?” He says, in a parody of a warriors voice. 

“Brother!” The rodent leaps, throwing it’s arms around the bird, “holy shit am I glad to see you. Where’s-”

“OWowow” Needle claws clamber up Ducks leg as a spiny, purple cat tries to reach the duo.

“Sorry! Guys, guys it’s me!”

“How about y’all do this on the ground?” Duck eases the animals onto the grass as they continue to talk over each other, waves to Dani and Aubrey, who is carefully pulling cactus spines from her hair. 

“Well, according to our guide” Barclay indicates the mouse, “this is the center of the gardens. But I don’t see any stone that matches the description Joseph and I found. Or a monster, for that matter.”

The ground shudders as heavy breathing fills the midday air. 

“Never mind.” 

A blue, bovine head appears first, perched atop a human torso. Dragging on the ground behind it is an axe, and it’s dark eyes widen when it spies the group. 

Duck draws Beacon, steps in front of Indrid to keep himself between him and the Minotaur. When the blade catches the light, the creature lows, backs up while holding the axe close to its chest. 

“Help.” It’s a frightened plea, the shape of the minotaurs’ mouth making the letters take on odd tones. 

He lowers his blade, returning it to his waist. Every drawing of a Minotaur shows them as towering, with huge horns and blazing eyes. This one is small, and the face reminds him of a calf, not a bull, the fur mussed like it's been hiding.

“It’s just a kid.” The hero turns back to the others, “this can’t be the monster.”

“Pretty sure it is. The kings enchanter made a crack about how I should hope minotaurs don’t eat birds.” The bird clacks its beak anxiously. 

Duck steps forward, “You all by yourself?”

The Minotaur nods. Let’s Duck ease the axe from his hand and pet his shoulder comfortingly

“That’s odd. Their kind are incredibly family oriented. There’s no way a parent would just abandon a child at the garden gate.” Joseph frowns, “which suggests someone put it here without permission.”

Another nod, “Taken.”

“Son of a--they kidnapped you. Cownapped? All to protect some fuckin stone.”

Large eyes blink, the Minotaur slowly shaking his head, “No. No stone.”

“What?” The shout of disbelief comes from everyone at once. 

“Oh that is _it_.” Aubrey waves a hand and the ground beneath him pitches for a heartbeat. Then they’re all standing in a summer sun unobstructed by foliage. The minotaur looks around, startled. Tipping it’s head up, it lows high and long at the sky. There’s no answering call, just the clamor of feet from the palace stairs. 

“Back at the start? I did warn you that magic--GODS alive, why did you bring that with you?” He staggers back. The minotaur moos, alarmed, and tries to hide behind Duck. 

“Because you stuck it at the fuckin center of the gardens all by itself!”

“In place of the stone.” Indrid crosses his arms, tapping his foot, “which I suggest you produce posthaste.”

“Uh, well, I, uh, we...we don’t actually have it.”

“Then why put us through that trial?” Joseph fixes the king with a glare.

“I, um, I'm trying to get the stone and I didn’t want competition for it. Even if you survived, I regretted putting that monster so close to my castle, so I was hoping your demigod would dispatch it for me.” He points at Duck, and the unspoken assumption makes him bristle.

“What, because bein a hero means killin without thought? That what you were hopin for.” He growls, starts forward only for Barclay to hold him back.

“Enough. If you can’t help us, we’re done here.”

“Not quite.” Aubrey regards the men behind the king, “which one of you is the enchanter?”

A man with greying hair raises his hand.

“Turn these three back into humans. Now.”

“No. I do not answer to anyone but my king.”

Aubreys fingers crackle, a bolt of orange light flies towards the trio, and three men appear.

“Hell yeah, I have hands again!”

“No more spikes!”

“Fuck, it’s been months, dads gonna be worried sick!”

The enchanter gawps, cowers as Aubrey begins shimmering.

“You just lost your magic privileges.” She snaps her fingers and the enchanter grips his head, “change your ways and I _might_ think about giving them back.”

“Goddess, please, we did not know you were among these adventurers-”

“Yeah, not better. This was, like, an accidental test and you totally failed by being a dick for no reason. Just tell us how to get this poor guy back to his family so we can be done dealing with you.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Indrid points down the hill. A second later, three full-grown minotaurs, all blue-skinned, round the bend. He and Duck a summarily knocked sideways as the calf barrels past them.

“Billy!” One catches the child in their arms, “oh my little one, thank goodness you escaped.”

Billy points to Duck and the others, “Friends. Helped.”

“Thank you-” the first Minotaur notices Aubrey and kneels, the others mirroring them, “I, I am honored that our plight was deemed dire enough for aid from the gods.”

“Ummmm”

“What plight?” Joseph looks between the two kneeling groups. 

“He” the Minotaur points at the king, “has been threatening our kind with all manner of evils if we do not surrender both our lands and a certain sacred item. We will not bow to such demands. So like a coward he ordered soldiers to descend in the dead of night and steal one of our children, trapping him and telling us that if we did not cooperate, he would kill the child and take another, and another.”

Wordlessly, Dani and Barclay start to shimmer, rounding on the king as they do. 

“You have one chance to mend your ways. If we get word that you are terrorizing anyone else, you will regret it.” Every tree shakes as Dani speaks. The cowed monarch does nothing but nod as the rest of his body shakes. Satisfied that the point has been made, Barclay turns to the minotaurs. 

“I’m sorry no one remedied this sooner. If he tries this again, don’t hesitate to call on us.” He sighs, “c’mon, I’m ready to go home.”

As they start down the trail (Aubrey wanting a moment to breathe before whisking them all back to the Lodge), Duck waves goodbye to Billy. The young minotaur waves back, whispers something to its parent. Suddenly, they and another of their herd are running to catch up with him. 

“Demigod, this stone you sought, is it the stone of wealth?”

“Yeah. We need it to help some friends.”

The shorter of the two creatures slips a necklace over its’ head; tied into the thick, golden rope is a perfectly round, silvery stone. 

“Then take it. We have little use for it. We only wished to keep it from falling into cruel hands. Yours are the opposite.” The Minotaur holds the cord open and Duck bows, letting them slip it around his neck. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And know this, hero; should you ever be in need of help, our kind remember those who have aided us.”

He can think of many scenarios where an army of minotaurs would be handy. He prays none of them ever come to pass. 

\------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid tosses another crumpled up paper into the wastebasket, adjusts the pillow behind his back. He’s spending a final night at Ducks cabin, knowing that tomorrow evening he’ll need to return to the temple and his duties as Oracle. The thin bedsheet is up to his waist, both because he runs even colder since his return from the dead, and because he got scratched during their adventure in the garden. If Duck notices, Duck will fuss and Indrid will get annoyed, and he needs to be calm for the conversation ahead. 

“You need anythin before we hit the hay?”

“No, my love.”

“You sure? We were out in the heat for awhile, so I could bring you some more water.”

“No, that’s alright.” Indrid inhales through his nose, counts to three, and exhales out his mouth, “Duck, can we talk a moment?”

“Course” the hero climbs onto the bed next to him, “what do you need?”

“I...it is less a question of what I need and more a question of what I do not need. Namely, I do not need you to be quite so, ah, attentive to me. I know you are doing it out of love but…” he watches the worry coursing across the hero’s face, “never mind. It is not important.”

“‘Drid” Duck takes his hands, “if I’m doin somethin wrong, I wanna know. Last thing I wanna do is hurt you more than I already have.”

“That. _That_ is the problem. You cannot stand between the world and me, you cannot keep me safe from everything, and it does not help either of us for you to make that your goal. You will hurt me, and I you, not because we mean to but because that is the nature of two people who decide to spend their days together. Even when you love someone, there will be moments you hurt them accidentally. And that does not upset me. I am _alive_. I am not afraid of pain, no more than I am afraid of joy, because it means I am here, with you. When I was dead, everything was muted until I saw you again. I did not know how much I could miss my feelings until they were all numbed. Now that I have a chance to feel again, I am starving for every sensation this world has to offer. I want to experience many of them with you, not have to circumvent your good intentions in order to have them.”

“Oh.” Ducks fingers are limp around his own, “Sorry. I, uh, I was just tryin to help. Tryin to, uh, make up for everythin I did.”

“You brought me back, Duck. Whatever you blame yourself for, surely that cancels it out?”

“Well, it don’t, alright? I’ve scrubbed Beacon a half-dozen times and I still see your blood on him. I go to bed thinkin about all the things I coulda done different, how I coulda kept any of it from happenin, and, and no matter how many times you say you forgive me, I ain’t sure I deserve it.” He won’t meet his eyes, and when Indrid tries to turn his face to look at him, he resists. 

“This ain’t your problem to solve, ‘Drid. I’m sorry I turned it into one by fussin over you.”

“It’s not the fussing that is the problem. I, ah, I like how caring you are. The way you look after me, the way you treat me, it makes me feel loved in a way I never thought possible. It’s just these last few days that made me afraid your urge to shelter me would smother me instead.”

A watery sigh, “What do you want me to do?”

“Trust me when I say I forgive you. Trust me to tell you what I need and when. Live in this world, in this moment, with me, even if the past still pulls on you at times.”

Mis-matched eyes finally meet his own in the lamplight. Indrid brings his thumbs up to brush the tears threatening their corners. 

“You promise that if somethin’ bad happens, you won’t run? You’ll let me help so we can face it together?”

“I promise.”

Duck pulls him into an embrace, warm and sturdy as always, and against his neck come the words, “I’m sorry. I know how fuckin trapped you felt in that temple when we first met. Never want you to feel that way with me. I’ll do better, we’ll figure it out, I swear.”

“That’s all I ask, my love.”

A kiss finds his lips, a request for forgiveness and a show of understanding rolled into one. They linger in it, trace the shape of each others' mouths until moths flutter in through the open windows hoping for a rendezvous with the lamp.

"So, uh, any worldly sensations you in the mood to experience right now?" Duck whispers playfully. 

"An old favorite; falling asleep in your arms. And if we have time in the morning" Indrid nips his ear, "I will share some others as well."


	10. Lover, Tell Me

Duck wakes up first, Indrid curled in his arms in spite of the heat that even the night air couldn’t rid them of. He strokes his cheek, runs a hand up and down his side with no purpose other than to reassure himself the seer is there. 

Indrids’ eyes glow redder since his return, so when they open it’s as if two embers regard him in the dawn light. 

“Mornin’”

The seer yawns, nestles under Ducks’ chin, “Nonsense, it’s still late at night, so there’s no need for us to leave the bed.”

“Nice try, sugar, but the sky says otherwise.”

“Hmmph. What time does Joseph want us to meet again?”

“Nine, so we still got about two hours to wake up. Which means I wanna know more about those, uh, experiences you hinted at last night.”

Indrid rolls onto his back, considering the ceiling as he starts his list, “I cannot forsake my seer duties entirely, but I wish to travel more, see more of the world that I have dedicated my life to aiding. We could travel together if you wish, or perhaps one of our immortal friends will help me take a day trip halfway around the world. I want to broaden my palate as well, find spice and acid that I enjoy, and there _must_ be delicacies that can rival eggnog.”

“Should I be writin this down?”

“No, the specifics are less important than the general premise. Although” Indrid turns onto his side, fixing Duck in a mischievous gaze, “there are a number of them that involve you and I doing some very, ah, erotic activities.”

“Say more.” Duck lowers his voice, slips his hand down to the small of Indrids’ back. 

“If I listed them all, we’d be here until well after nine. I adore your body, and I wish to find every way of bringing it pleasure. Ideally using my own body, but I am very open to more creative ideas as well. And there is, ah, a, ah” a blush blooms on his cheeks as his eyes dance nervously back and forth, “a specific vein of fantasy I wish to mine if you are amenable.”

“Might be, but you gotta tell me what it is.” He smooths his hand around a narrow thigh, teases at the waistband of the small linen shorts Indrid sleeps in.

“I, ah, ahAHnnnn” his hips wiggle as Duck’s fingers slip under the fabric, “it is a bit extreme.”

“Darlin, few days ago you surprised me by tyin’ yourself up. Ain’t about to start clutchin my pearls over here.”

“I want you to gAH, goodnes it’s hard to think when you do that” he giggles as Duck draws a gentle thumb up and down his cock. 

“Want me to stop.”

“Not at all. I...I want to try what we did that first night, but more. I want to be the sheltered and helpless oracle carried off by the brave hero whose eye I caught. I want intensity, I want it to  _ hurt _ ”

“Uh” his hand stutters, “not, uh, not sure I got it in me to hurt you. Not again.”

“Oh, oh nono” Indrid cups his cheek, hips twitching encouragingly, “I did not express that well. I want a little pain, the kind easily cloaked pleasure, but more than that I want to be utterly, thoroughly claimed by the end of it. I want to be reduced to nothing more than my heroes plaything.”

“Sweet hells, how long has that idea been loose in that fuckin brilliant mind of yours?”

“Some time” Indrid smiles, secretive, then offers an appreciative “ooh” as Duck yanks down his underwear and kicks it to the floor. 

“C’mere you” Duck flips them so Indrid is atop him, kisses the line of his collarbone as one hand keeps a steady pace on the seers’ cock, “now, we gotta have a nice long talk about that’s okay and what ain’t, but if you want me to set aside a day to ravish you, you got it.”

Indrid grins, drops down to kiss him hungrily, little moans brushing his lips, “I cannot wait.”

“Me neither.” Duck hooks one leg around his hips, nudging them down so his cock rubs off on a certain slick patch of skin. 

Indrid gasps, arching his back, “Oh! I did not think you’d want-”

“You ain’t the only one with a long list of wants, sugar. And what I want right now is for you to fuck me like the horndog you are.”

A louder moan as Indrid sits up enough to line himself up, pushing in with one, smooth thrust. 

“You can move if you want” Duck murmurs when Indrid simply settles onto his elbows, the rest of him aggravatingly still. 

“If I do this will be over in a matter of seconds, and I want it to last.” 

Duck smirks, sets his fingers onto his dick, “in that case, mind if I give myself a hand?”

“Not at all” Indrids pupils widen as he watches Duck jack himself off. There was a time when Duck was self-conscious about such displays, about the sounds he made or the way he looked. That feeling may as well have belonged to another man for all it bothers him now. Indrid whimpers with every buck of his hips, wets his lips each time Duck grunts or groans. 

“Enjoyin the show, sugar?”

“You, you are  _ perfect _ ” Indrid purrs, rolling his hips once before forcing them to still, “gods, being inside you while you do this, feeling your pleasure, it’s exquisite.” His hand worships the expanse of Duck’s chest, “may, may I stay like this while you cum?”

“That’s the, fuck, the plan.”

A chirp of delight and a flurry of kisses to his face, “thank you, dearest, thank you”

“I know how to treat a fella, darlin, don’t you worrynnnn” he jerks his hips, orgasm forming on the horizon, “shit _ yeah _ , fuck me now and fuck me hard.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice, Indrid pounding into him with the eagerness of a virgin at a bacchanal. They’re sticky with sweat, the sheets tangled around their ankles, and while Duck knows they have music in the realm of the gods, he doubts they have anything that sounds as good as the broken, delighted cry Indrid gives as he cums. 

Ducks climax hits him while Indrids’ hips are still pulsing, whimpers spilling onto his chest as the seer finishes in him. It’s not earth-shattering but it feels damn good, is made all the better by the look in Indrid’s eyes as he gazes down at him, silver hair hanging across his face. 

“Gods, I love you.” Duck whispers, tucking the strands back behind his ear. 

The adoration in Indrid’s voice is as endless as the sky and twice as clear, “I love you too.”

\------------------------------------------------------

“Nervous?” Barclay brushes pine needles from his sleeves as they ready themselves to enter the main city of the Northwoods.

“Yes. Mortal communities in less temperate climates tend to be community minded, so my initial hope was that this would be an easy search. But after misjudging the temperament of the King of Huntington” Joseph shakes his head, “I’m wary.”

“If it helps, I foresee them being equally wary, rather than falsely friendly.” Indrid tugs up the hood of his rain slicker; the Northwoods are stormy, even at the height of summer. 

It’s just the three of them and Duck; Dani has to attend to a famine to the west, Ned is still searching for the Chalice, and Aubrey opted to stay behind and guard the relics hidden at the Lodge. 

The city is commonly called the The Nest, and when they pass through the high wooden fences encircling the whole of it, Joseph understands why. The buildings are hexagonal, fitting together in configurations big and small to turn the city into a honeycomb. Towards the center of the city is a large building painted gold and black, the colors still shining under the muted grey sky. 

“That’s the one” Joseph leads the way up the silent street, knocks on the door and takes two steps back when two cross bows and two shotguns aim at the group through slats.

“What do you want?” Barks a voice from inside. 

“We’re researchers who hope to ask the lord of the city for help in our quest. And if that is not possible, we humbly request shelter from the rain.”

“You armed?”

“Yes.” In spite of their last adventure, honestly still seems their best chance (and any attempts at deception have a built in fail point, courtesy of the demigod on his right). 

“Hand over whatever you’re packing and then we’ll talk.” 

Duck tosses Beacon onto the ground before the voice is done talking. The sword is soon joined by Barclays’ axe, Josephs’ pistol, and the knife Indrid carries under his loose coat. The door swings inward, and a young man in yellow and black clothing waves them in. An awkward, quiet walk takes them down the hall and up a flight of stairs to what was once a throne room. It’s rearranged into a more communal space, though a figure in a golden jacket lounges sideways on the tarnished throne, black boots thrown over one arm. 

“Um, Hollis? These guys wanna talk to you.”

Hollis nods, gestures to a nearby couch, “Most folks steer clear of the nest these days, nice to see some new faces. Y’all looking for a place to stay?”

“Not quite, Lord Hollis-”

The leader snorts, “Hollis is fine. We don’t really go in for all the lord bullshit anymore.”

“Right” Joseph clears his throat, “to be blunt, my friends and I are looking for the Oculus of Fantasy. We have information that suggests it’s somewhere in the city and request permission to look for it.”

Hollis shrugs, “Yeah, we got it.”

When they say nothing else, the quartet trade a puzzled look. 

“Can we...have it?” Barclay ventures. 

“Maybe. We don’t have much use for it, it was handed down for, like, generations. One of those things that’s more trouble than not, if you ask me. But I know it’s powerful, so I’m not super inclined to just hand it over. Not when there’s things my people need that y’all might be able to get.”

“We’re willing to get something to trade. That only seems fair.” Joseph glances at the others, who nod. 

“Unless there’s some kinda maze involved. Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve had my fill of those fuckin things.”

“Nope, no maze.” Hollis flicks open a pocket knife, cleaning under their nails, I’ll hand over the Oculus if y’all bring us a Squonk.”

Joseph groans, cards his fingers through his hair, “If that’s the price, we’ll do our best, but I can’t make any promises. For obvious reasons.”

“Mind enlightening the rest of us, babe?”

“Squonks are notoriously hard to catch.”

“They real dangerous or somethin?”

“No. It avoids all other living things when possible, ostensibly out of sadness over its strange appearance.”

“I can help us locate it; if it’s not trying to kill us, it’s easier to slow down and use foresight to track it.”

“That’s only half the problem. The instant anyone looks at a Squonk, it dissolves in it’s own tears.”

“...Why do y’all want one of these?” Duck shoots a skeptical glance at Hollis. 

“Because they’re the only thing in the world a Direwolf or a Wampus Cat won’t go near. There’ve been a hell of a lot of those the last six months. Heroes have been useless in stopping it, and the gods less than useless.”

A week ago, Joseph might have argued this point. Now he just nods. 

“We’ll do our best.”

“And” Barclay adds as they stand, “even if we fail and you don’t give us the Oculus, we’ll find another way to protect your city. I promise.”

Hollis smiles the smile of someone who’s heard that before.

\------------------------------------------------------------

“In five minutes, a Squonk should come around that bend.” Indrids eyes remain shut as he points, “at least that is the outcome in the majority of futures. Apologies for the short time, but my visions continue to lag in the most frustrating way.”

“Great, now we got five minutes to work out how to catch somethin we can’t see.”

“True. But we also have someone who can conjure anything we need, including a net. And we have a seer who can tell us when to drop it.” Joseph heads off Indrids concern, “Squonks are slow-moving, so with a big enough net the fact your visions are delayed shouldn’t prevent us from catching it.”

“Then once it’s caught, we walk it all the way back to the city without looking behind us?” Barclay doesn’t sound convinced.

“Yes, though one of us should go ahead and ask everyone to stay inside so our hard work isn’t for nothing. I just really, really hope Hollis has a plan for how to house the creature safely.”

“I can teleport there easily.”

“Thank you, my love.” Joseph studies the layout of the clearing, leaves Indrid under the tree he’s using as shelter against the storm as he arranges himself, Barclay, and Duck in the largest triangle they can manage. Barclay produces a net the exact size of the triangle between them, makes it invisible when Indrid waves a hand. 

“Squonk incoming, a minute away at most.”

All four close their eyes, Joseph straining his ears for heavy footsteps of deep snorts. Twigs crunch on the damp ground in labored, slow strides. The noise stops; his best guess is that the Squonk sees them and is wondering what in the world four humans are doing standing in the pouring rain. 

The  _ crunch….crunch _ begins again.

“Now!” Indrid yells.

A  _ whoosh _ and a surprised bellow, but no indicator that the Squonk is escaping, or even trying to. 

“Alright, start backing up until you find the net. Keep your eyes closed until Indrid says we’re clear.”

“Got it!” Call two voices. 

Joseph allows himself a moment of pride. 

Then he curses whichever of his fellow gods invented hubris as his heel slips in mud and he tumbles backwards. His eyes open on instinct, jarred by his head connecting with the ground. 

A narrow, grey, wrinkled face stares down at him through massive, brown eyes, the whites red-rimmed from crying. 

“Shit.” He mutters. 

The Squonk sniffles, tears rolling down it’s cheeks, “D-don’t l-look at meeee”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

His teeth clack together when the Squonk sits down, tree-trunk legs jutting out into the mud. The net slackens as it puts it’s hooved front legs across it’s face and wails, stone-sized tears noticeable even in the storm. For all the sobbing and shaking, it's very much intact. 

“Guess it ain’t gonna dissolve?” Duck peeks through one eye. 

“No? Or at least not literal--” Joseph smacks his forehead, “I cannot believe this, it’s a godsdamned  _ translation error _ ! A translation error that I’m pretty sure _I_ made! Ugghhhhhhhh” He drags his hands down his face, leaving muddy prints in their wake. 

“S-see this-hic-this is wh-why I hide, I m-make everyone sad!” The Squonk blows it’s nose, a ghastly sound.

“Hey now, Joseph isn’t angry at you.” Barclay is tall enough that he’s almost eye-level with the sitting Squonk, “none of us are. We just learned we went to a lot of trouble for nothing, is all. If I let you out of this net, will you stay put so we can talk?”

“Uhuh, no p-point in hiding now, you all saw m-me, I’m sorryyyyy.” 

Indrid steps forward, pulling a hand from his pocket, “Would you like one of these? They may cheer you some.” 

The creature considers the pink and yellow hard candies as Indrid shields them from the rain, reaches out with it’s trunk to pick one up and drop it in its mouth. It keeps crying as it eats, though the tears are no longer the size of river rocks. When it’s done, Indrid holds out another and the process repeats itself. 

“Why-hic-why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because you need help, and you ain’t done nothin wrong.”

“B-but I-hic-I _exis_ t.”

“That ain’t a good reason for folks to be mean to you.” Duck produces a damp handkerchief and offers it to the Squonk, who promptly renders it too disgusting to ever use again.

“I’m h-horribl and s-sad and I don’t do anything but-hic-but cry.”

Joseph offers the gentlest smile in the history of recorded time, “Would you like the chance to do something else?”

\---------------------------------------------------------

“Well, deal’s a deal.” Hollis crosses their office, uses a series of seven keys to unlock seven progressively smaller boxes. From the window, Joseph watches three residents of the city show the Squonk around his very own hexagonal home. The creature still sniffles or wipes it’s eyes, but it no longer weeps so loud Joseph fears for his hearing. 

The Oculus hangs on a bronze chain, the lens scratched with age, and Joseph wonders who made it and why as he tucks it into his inside pocket. 

As they leave the city, Barclay stops, rain running down his back as he turns. Were someone in the city to look up at that exact moment, they would see a faint shimmer in the air, gone as quickly as it came, and not the shell of protection that now cloaks their home. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

The storm follows them home, clouds heavy with thunder and crackling with lightning as they hang their clothes by large fire in the lobby of Amnesty Lodge. 

Dani is still gone, Ned’s search came to nothing, and Aubrey reports that the most exciting thing to happen all day was Dr. Harris Bonkers singing a filthy ballad during lunch hour.

“I have no clue where he learned it.”

“Don’t look at me” Barclay raises his hands, palms out, “we stay here and read when it’s my night to watch him.”

The wind bangs a window open, rain pattering across the floor as it does. 

“I got it.” Duck sets a hand on the shutter, starts and then chuckles when a Jackdaw alights on the sill “might wanna find a drier perch little fella. Some nice thick-canopy trees around the back of the house.”

The black bird gives a mechanical tilt of the head, “Naw mate, I’m right where I want to be.”

There’s no more bird, just a large man closing the window with a smile as hollow as bird-bones. 

“Finally responding to my missive, old friend?” Ned stays put in his chair by the fire. Given that all the deities in the room recognize the intruder, Duck’s going to go ahead and guess he’s a god. 

“Not quite, Edmund, not quite. Here on an errand for our lady of the underground.”

“Oh no” Indrid shrinks into his seat. 

“Last I checked, dear Boyd, you were the god of con men, not the god of the dead.”

“Con men  _ and _ messengers. Couriers too. Which is why She sent me. Well, that and the fact you left me stranded down there after she caught us in our little misadventure. Or had you forgotten that?” There are daggers in the grin now. 

In the time they’ve known each other, Ducks never seen Ned look guilty. So it takes him a moment to understand that’s the emotion on the gods’ face. 

“I…”

As Ned experiences an unprecedented bout of speechlessness, Duck leans over to Aubrey.

“Ain’t the rest of you gonna say anythin?”

“We learned a loooong time ago that when they argue, it’s better to let them bicker until they wear themselves out.”

“Point is, you ain’t the reason I’m here Edmund.  _ He _ is.” The god points to Indrid, “Quell worked out that someone escaped from the underworld. She’s convinced it was a spy, someone working to destroy her and Sylvain. I know for a damn fact it was the Oracle.”

“I'm not involved in any such subterfuge. I wanted to be alive again. More to the point, Duck wanted the same and faced the necessary trials to do so.  


Boyd clicks his tongue, “trouble is, those trials ain’t sanctioned by the Quell. They’re loopholes and tricks pieced together through the ages. Were She not on high-alert lately, you woulda gotten away with it. But she knows there’s a soul missing, so she turned me loose to collect it.”

“Don’t you lay a single fuckin finger on him.” Duck surprises himself with the speed he manages in getting between the god and Indrid, “I lost him once. I ain’t losin’ him again, no matter who I gotta fight to keep him here.”

“Far be it from me to challenge Minervas’ champion” Boyd scoffs, “trouble is, even if you did manage to hurl me right back down to the Quell, that wouldn’t stop her.” He regards the other deities, all but Joseph glowing with power, “and if you did it instead of Mr. Hero here, it wouldn’t change things. She wants the count of souls righted. If I’m not up to the task, she’ll send someone, or _something_ , else, bigger and badder until she gets that soul back.”

Duck can feel Indrid’s fear, reaches his hand without taking his eyes from Boyd. Cool fingers circle it, shaking but resolute.

“Does it have to be Indrid?” Joseph studies his fellow god.

“Nope, She won’t know the difference in her state. Whoever it is, mortal or not, will be stuck once they’re down there. But I lost my smiting privileges, and unless one of you wants to take his place, I’d say his choice is made.”

“Don’t” Indrid whispers, pulling Duck back and stopping the offer on his tongue. 

Slowly, Ned stands, “I...I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“Ned” Aubrey protests but the older man shakes his head, moving forward before any of them can stop him.   


“It’s for the best, lady flame. Goodbye my friends.”

Boyd holds out his hand. Ned takes it. 

And then he’s gone. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

It should be comforting, how unchanged the Temple of Gowinbane is. The floors of the meeting hall are as shiny and cold as ever, the dark pool as vast and still as it was the night he was changed. 

Indrid struggles to be still at the best of times; drawing helps communicate his visions, yes, but they also give his hands something to do. Now he fidgets with the hems of his clothes, with his glasses, with the empty water glass by his side. The life of an Oracle involves so much sitting and waiting. Beyond the temple, his friend research, plan, and grieve. The man he loves tends to his trees, relieved to be stewarding after so many days of heroism. 

Sitting and waiting. 

Waiting and sitting. 

It’s intolerable. He wants to do something helpful with his visions, wants to-

“ _ Seer Cold.” _

Woodbridge, Hayes, Minerva, Janelle, and Vincent all appear in the surface of the pool. He turns on his blanket to face them, taking care not to lean so much as an inch forward over the water. Minerva beams upon seeing him and Vincent sets a hand across his heart as he utters a quiet “thank Sylvain.”

“How can I be of service today, your graces? I, ah, I must caution you, my powers are somewhat inhibited of late, as are those of my patron. I don’t suppose any of you know why?”

“ _ Doubtless for the same reason someone was capable of impersonating Minerva. Something is interfering with the powers of the gods.”  _

_ “Which is why, Oracle, we need you to tell us what Joseph and Barclay are planning.”  _ Hayes adds, impatient. 

His surprise pushes his initial reaction ahead of a diplomatic one, “That’s not a prophecy.”

“ _ Why does that matter?” _

“Because my duty is to offer wisdom and insight from the future, not spy for you. What does any of this have to do with the issues with my powers, or with the safety of the world?” Perhaps if he keeps his tone level, his mood will follow suit. 

“ _ Your job is not to be concerned with the world, your job is to tell us what we ask.”  _ Hayes crosses his arms. 

“No, it is not. I am meant to be a neutral resource, to offer my council to whoever asks for it. Not aid the gods in their squabbles.”

“ _ Then why, exactly, are you helping Barclay and Joseph?”  _ Woodbridge is smug even through the distortion of the pool. 

“They are my friends. And their love is no threat to me, or to you, or to the world.”

“ _ Or so you think” _

“So I know. I do not need foresight to tell you that whatever danger is coming, or is already here, it is not because they happen to love each other. If that is the conclusion you have reached, you are paying even less attention than I thought.”

“ _ Mind your tongue, Oracle”  _ Woodbridge snaps, “ _ Or our kindness towards you may run out. It is by our grace that you are no longer in the underworld.” _

“Wha--oh that is  _ absurd _ ! My death meant nothing to any of you, nor did Ducks’ pain! I am alive because he loved me enough to try one of the most foolheaded quests known to mortals. I am alive because my friends, god and mortal alike, loved me enough to help him. I, I am alive because Ned took my place. That literally happened _yesterday_! Is this the story you tell yourselves?” His voice reverberates off the walls, “you take credit for mercy you do not show, for protection you do not give, and then you wonder why we no longer respect you as we used to? No wonder my visions are so often wasted on you.”

“ _ Oracle, I warn you-” _

“What?” Indrid stands, arms flying this way and that, “what can you possibly do to me that has not already been done? I have been transformed against my will, slain by the one I love most, have walked the paths of the dead, have felt sorrow and resignation the likes of which not even you could conceive. There is nothing left that you can do to me. So with all do respect, either ask me something useful instead of selfish or  _ go away _ .”

The images vanish, but a voice remains in his head. A voice he hasn’t heard since his flight from the underworld. 

_ Run. _

Beams crack over his head, boards splinter under his feet, and he makes it out into the forest in time to watch the temple, the cottage, and all they contain collapse into rubble. 

He shakes dust from his hair, pulls off his glasses to clean them on an equally dusty shirt. 

“Well, fuck me I guess.”


	11. Many Kinds of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: Duck and Indrid roleplay a very intense scene, based on Indrid's desire for Duck to be rough with him and fuck him even if he asks for a pause or mercy. The scenario could read as dubcon, but we see them checking in with each other and that they have a safeword, and that everyone is enthusiastically consenting to the scene (and in the scene). After care is shown.

They have two and half weeks until the month ends. As he stares at his notes, at the scribbled out ideas and jotted down theories, Joseph feels as if it may as well come tomorrow. They’ve made no progress on the fire of life, and without Ned to help them the trail of the goblet has hit a rockface that none of them know how to scale. The Staff is within reach, but kept from them by the most mundane frustration: the weather. 

The Starry Pass, where the order that holds the staff dwells, is high and treacherous. Because of this, the order generates a powerful, protective field whenever the elements pose a threat. A threat like the summer thunderstorms battering the bulk of the continent. 

Dani, Aubrey, or Barclay could get them through the shield, but doing so would make their divinity immediately clear. That could corrupt the “freely given” part of the spell, and while Joseph could make an argument that simply making a request as a god is not inherently coercive, he’s not about to go to all this work and then have it fail on a technicality. 

Unfortunately, none of the other gods at the Lodge have the amount of power over weather necessary to make the storms stop. The god who does is on Mt. Kepler. Given how the gods reacted to Indrids refusal to spy on Barclay and himself, asking anyone up there for help is a non-starter.

The Oracle wanders through his sight line, traversing the hall between the kitchen and his new room. Indrid acted on his own convictions, yet Joseph still feels guilt for the loss of his home. The seer accepted his apology with grace, then said in that mild way of his “such a confrontation was long overdue.”

Barclay gave him the biggest available room, stocked with blankets, and left a welcome basket of sweet pastries on the table. 

Indrid waved off Danis’ offer to rebuild the temple (“I count this as being relieved of duty, which means I no longer need a temple”). Joseph assumed he would stay with Duck, but while the hero offered, the seer said he wanted a few months in a communal setting before moving in. Duck simply kissed him and told him to take as long as he needed. 

Rain batters the Lodge so loudly that he doesn’t realize someone is at the side door until Mama opens it. 

“I’ll be damned, was wondering when you’d come around again. Get in here, you old goat.” Mama laughs, pulling Thacker in from the rain. 

“Hey, Maddie.”

“Still hate that nickname” she grins, elbowing him, “come on in and dry off.”

“Any chance I could talk to you and this one” he indicates Joseph, “somewhere more private?”

Mama leads them back to the kitchen, where Barclay is prepping for dinner while Dani works on the window gardens she migrated inside to keep them from being ruined by the storm. The cook manifests four glasses of iced tea as Thacker waves him over. 

“I been rootin through old temples and whatnot, lookin for more information for y’all and, well, I found somethin you need to see.” He pulls a small, battered book, bound in faded gold leather, from his coat. Opening it reveals a script no one has written in for centuries.

“Took me awhile to translate the whole thing, quite a few of the pages are torn or the ink’s dried up to damn near nothin. But this here book explains how those relics even came to be. Y’all ever heard of the Colianictiorens, or Colianics, before?”

“Never” Joseph pulls the book across the table, studying it as Thacker continues. 

“Not surprised. I hadn’t either until I read that. They were the first creatures ever created by Sylvain. Older than Sylphs. Older than the other gods, too.”

Barclays’ mug cracks in half, “What?”

“They were almost a bridge between divine and mortal; incredibly powerful, but could still ultimately be killed, and lacked much of the creative power that the gods ended up with. They were beings of logic. That book is from the earliest days of Sylph existence, when that old order still roamed the world. Trouble was, the Colianictiorens thought Sylvain and The Quell were becoming careless. Sylphs were, and are, creatures of emotion as much as creatures of thought. Colianics were convinced that the Sylphs were gonna ruin everything, destroy the world because their emotions sometimes meant they could be violent, irrational. When they got word that humans were coming down the pipe, they decided enough was enough. That the Great Mothers weren’t fit to rule no more. They came up with a plan to destroy them and take control of the world.”

Joseph turns the page, finds once-vibrant illustrations of the seven relics looking up at him.

“Course, Sylvain saw what was happenin. Quell too. The Quell was more inclined to lock the Colianics away, or outright destroy ‘em. Sylvain didn’t want to. Usin’ their combined powers, they turned them into what we all call monsters; all the fearsome critters runnin around this world are descended from the transformed Colianics. The burst of power it took to do that was so great, it spilled out into the world, and sensible Sylphs captured it in the items that became the relics."

He closes the book, the Satyrs words weighing down his heart, “Why did she make us, then? Why take the risk of new gods when the old ones nearly destroyed her?”

Oddly, Thacker smiles, “She decided on a better model when she made y’all. Made you to feel as much as think, with hearts that grieved and raged and loved. She made the gods in the image of mortals, not the other way around.”

“Thacker” Barclays deep voice is soft and shaky, “is...do you think that’s why I’ve always felt more at home down here than up there? I” he sits down, rubbing his beard, “for so long I thought there was something wrong. That she’d made me wrong because I never felt how a god was supposed to feel.”

“Oh, Barclay” Joseph cups his cheek, turning his face, “you never told me that.”

“It..it sounded silly. Like, how could a god be wrong?” 

“Given what we’ve seen from our brethren, pretty easily.”

The cook chuckles, sniffs, as he rests his head on Josephs shoulder. Thacker watches them a moment before continuing. 

“I may not be a god. And I sure as hells ain’t Sylvain. But I think you came out the exact way she meant you too. Even if others didn’t see it that way.”

How long ago was it, their last conversation with their mother? A long time, the kind where you become so used to an absence that it’s only when you look behind you that you see you’ve been longer without that person than with them. And how long before then had Woodbridge and his ilk sneered at Aubrey, at Dani, at Barclay, _his_ Barclay, for spending “too much” time among mortals?

How different would it have been if she’d told them of their origins?

“She lied to us.” He whispers, squeezing Barclays hand when it falls into his, “why? What use could that possible be?”

“Wish I knew, sport. But only one person can answer that.”

“Yeah, just like she answered everything else these last few decades.” Bitterness edges into Barclays voice.

“That’s why we’re doin this, ain’t it?” Mama murmurs, setting her hand on Barclays shoulder, “to see if y’all can get through to her?”

They both nod, but Joseph knows they share the same thought: even with the relics, even if she stops Woodbridge’s ultimatum, there will not be enough time to ask all they need to know. 

“Speakin of which” Thacker pulls a stack of books from his weathered satchel, “found a few more things that might help us locate those last two relics. I may not have all the answers, but I’m sure as hells gonna help y’all find them.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For once, Indrid isn’t shivering with cold, even as rain splatters his glasses. Anticipation courses up and down him as he creeps through the back gate of a familiar garden. 

No, not familiar; not in this scenario. In the set-up he and Duck agreed on, this is the first time he’s stumbled past the gate. 

Last night Joseph, oddly subdued, called off the planning session for today leaving Indrid and Duck with a significant chunk of unoccupied time. Indrid knew exactly how he wanted to use it. Duck was happy to play along. 

Rain skates down the back of his shirt as he scans the bushes. The Starberries glitter with droplets and he plucks two from the vine. Gods they taste good. The weather fades into the background as he shovels more into his face. The futures do too. 

“Y’know, trespassin is real rude.”

He whirls, mouth full off ill-gotten fruit, breaking branches and stepping on bulbs in his haste. 

“I’ll be, the rumors are true. Oracle went and got himself evicted. Didn’t expect him to be scroungin in my garden.” The drawl is amused, not angry.

“I, I am sorry, but I have nowhere to go and am hungry I, I have a little money, I can pay you back-”

A chuckle, “No need for any of that. Doubt you took anymore’n the birds do most days.” The figure jerks his head towards the door, and Indrid takes that as an invitation inside. Pulling off his glasses lets him take in the cabin as he pats his pockets in search of something to clear the lenses. 

“Here” A dry, grey cloth is held before him. Following the hand that offers it up a strong, muscled arm leads him to a face that renders him speechless. 

Ducks’ smile is pure congeniality, and were Indrid not looking for it he’d miss the way those mis-matched eyes darken, predatory, as they sweep up and down his boy. 

“Recognize me? Came to you a few times for help.” He sets his hands into his pockets as Indrid takes the cloth, “then again, you probably see so many folks it’s hard to remember a specific one.”

“I could never forget you, Duck Newton.

Warmth enters the smile, “Just Duck is fine.”

“Indrid.” He hands back the now-damp cloth, “You always intrigued me during your visits. I had hoped we would meet again. Just, ah, not under such circumstances. As you surmised my luck has taken a turn for the worse of late. All the same, I apologize for trespassing.”

“Don’t worry about it too much, sure there’s a way you can make it up to me.”

He nods, pretending excitement at the prospect of forgiveness rather than at the futures flickering into view. 

Duck steps forward, brushes a thumb over his cheek, “looks like you got real muddy trompin around in this weather. C’mon, I got a bath with your name on it.”

“You are too kind.” Indrid purrs, savoring the cut of Ducks cloths as he leads him down the short hallway. He’s in his undershirt and the pants Indrid joking calls his “hero trousers.” They’re dark grey, far more durable than the clothes he wears as a steward, and show off all the ways that fighting monsters and wandering forest paths can do a mans ass and legs good. 

Duck turns the faucets, picks up two bottles from the nearby counter, “Bubbles?”

“Yes please.” 

Pale blue liquid hits the water, swirling the scent of vanilla through the air. Duck hangs a pink and yellow robe on the back of the door, sets his hand on the nob, “take as long as you need.”

Indrid nods, pulls off his shirt and touches the drawstring of his pants before noticing that the other man is still in the door, watching him hungrily. He catches Indrid’s eye. Instead of apologizing he smirks and finishes his exit into the hall. 

He twists the tap closed with shaking finger, sinks into the tub with measured breaths. When they planned this out, they decided Duck would start out sweet and polite, grow rougher and meaner by degrees as the day went on. This would increase the anticipation, draw it out, and it would let Duck build up to level of dominance Indrid craves. 

_“Even if the whole thing gets me hotter than a pair of suns, not sure I got it in me to be full-on mean right away.”_

As he scrubs mud off his arms, Indrid finds there’s a third benefit to their plan. It allows him to slip into the mindset of the naive seer, who’s seen much but experienced little, letting his guard down at the first sign of gentleness. Let’s him pretend he’s never known Duck’s--or anyone else's--touch. 

“Calm down” He mutters as his cock stirs under the bubbles. 

Dried and berobed, he wanders back into the living room. Duck reads on the floor, facing the unlit fireplace and resting his back against the couch. When Indrid joins him, he sets the book aside and turns his undivided attention on the seer. 

“How you feelin?”

“Decidedly cleaner. Thank you again for your generosity.”

Duck licks his lips, “Don’t start callin me generous just yet. You still owe me for messin up my garden, remember?”

“Oh, of course, here let me-” He sits up, intending to get his bag. Duck stops him with a firm grip on the robe, pulling him forward. The kiss is insistent, Indrid steadying himself on Ducks arms to keep from falling over. 

“That’s more like it.” Duck sighs, “gods, been wantin to do that since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“I, I am flattered you think my kisses are sufficient payment for my error.”

Duck kisses him languidly, fingers creeping along his waist, “Not quite, darlin. Think there’s another thing your sweet mouth can do for me.” He rolls his hips. Indrid spots the jade ring on his finger just as a half-hard cock rubs his thigh.

“Oh. Oh, ah, that’s not, that is I haven’t-”

One hand snakes into his hair and tugs, the other rests at the base of his neck and he gasps, arching into Duck.

“Now sugar, you wouldn’t want me to get rough with you, would you?”

They both know his true answer, but there’s so much back and forth to be had, so many dark, delicious possibilities lurking under the calm in Ducks’ voice.

“It’s, it’s not that I do not want to. I am afraid-”

Duck brushes their noses together, hint of mockery in his voice, “No need for that, got a big strong hero here to protect you.” 

Indrid roams his hands over Duck’s chest, purring at the perfect mixture of muscle and fat, “You must let me finish. I am afraid I will disappoint you. I am, ah, not very good at such things.”

“Oh yeah? How about you let me decide that.” It’s an order, delivered as Duck keeps a firm hold on him and guides him onto his side on the rug. The hero makes short work of his belt and fly, Indrid salivating when he pulls out a perfectly average cock. He wiggles closer, still on his side, setting his head in Duck’s lap so that they’re perpendicular to each other.

“Heh, you really are the most charmin godsdamn man I ever seen. Got me halfway there just kissin you, so now you’re gonna get me the rest of the way. Open your mouth.”

Indrid obeys, hums as Duck guides the tip of his cock between his lips. His left hand hovers, unsure of it’s purpose, until Duck moves it to wrap around the base, coarse hair tickling part of his palm. 

“There we go, move it up and down a little, yeah, like that.” He groans as the shaft fully hardens in Indrids grasp, “don’t be shy, sugar, you can play with it all you want.”

Indrid takes the permission to experiment, twists on his upstrokes and tightens on his downstrokes, pre-cum sliding onto his tongue whenever he sucks. It’s glorious, exploring Ducks body this way. He’ll never tire of it, no matter how many times his hero opens himself to him like this. 

One hand rests on the back of his head, the other runs slowly up and down his side, “Keep those eyes open. Always, fuck, wondered what you were hidin behind those glasses, now I know it’s the most stunnin shade of red the gods ever designed.”

Indrid blushes and does as he’s told. The angle makes for an odd view, but all the same he savors the curves of Duck’s belly and chest, the edges of his jaw as he clenches it and bucks into Indrid’s mouth. 

“ _Fuck_ that’s good, try usin your tongue more on the head, yeah.” Occasionally his cock slips sideways, bumping the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t try to stop it, it helps make his ministrations as inelegant and eager as he can in order to heighten the illusion of inexperience. 

Warm air flashes over his cock when Duck flips the robe open, taking Indrid in hand. The seer moans around his cock, his own strokes speeding up as Duck works him fast. 

“Seems only polite to--fuck, do that again--make sure you’re havin as much fun as I am” He thumbs over the head and Indrid squeaks, “besides, wanna know what’s like to cum down that throat while you moan like the desperate little thing you are, yeah, keep doin that, _fuck_.” Cum pulses into his mouth as his legs tense under Indrid’s head. The hold on his cock is borderline painful until the hero finishes. Then it’s a rapid, fiery build up of exquisite pleasure until he spills onto the floor, Duck coaxing him through it as he pulls free of his mouth.

Indrid shifts onto his back, wiping his chin, “was that satisfactory?”

Duck chuckles, “Better than, sugar. Trust me, if it wasn’t, my cock would already be holdin your tongue down again until you met my, uh, exactin standards.” 

He shivers at the implication of those words. Duck gathers his robe into place, tying it in a tight, neat loop at his waist. 

“Can’t have you gettin cold.” The comment is simultaneously inside and outside the game. Even when they’re both vibrating with lust, Duck will pause to tend to his every little need. He loves him all the more for it. 

It also makes him more eager to move to the next part of the scene. He yawns, stretching his long limbs, “May I make use of your couch to sleep awhile?”

“Sure thing” Duck scoops him up, sets him on the couch, “I’ll check on you in a bit.”

Indrid shuts his eyes; he’s no intention of sleeping, though he does need to rest his body if he wants any hope of keeping up with Duck later on. After a few minutes, footsteps pad across the floor. Indrid cracks open an eye.

Duck raises his eyebrow, holds up a narrow, black, glass plug in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other.

Indrid nods, closes his eyes once more. The hero kneels by the couch, pushes Indrid’s robe up to his lower back. The plug isn’t his favorite temperature, though he can tell Duck tried to warm it in his hands before pressing it in. He focuses on relaxing as his lover works it in little by little. The quiet drawl tells him how wonderful he is, how much Duck loves him, as cloud-soft kisses land on his back and legs. Then the robe is back in place and his visitor is gone. 

He feigns sleep until the clock on the mantle, under the watchful eye of the model ships on either side, strikes one in the afternoon. The seer is no sooner sitting up than his host is beside him, offering a glass of water as he settles on the cushions. Indrid drains it as Duck speaks. 

“Idea came to me while you were asleep. See, it seems to me you need a place to stay, and I got a real nice one. You could stay here.”

“Oh _yes_ ” Indrid claps his hands, “that would be wonderful.”

“There’s just, uh, one other thing” Duck leans into his space, hand gliding long the top of the couch like a serpent through murky water, “seein’ as you ain’t gonna be bringin in money as a seer, you’re gonna spend your days gettin fucked. By me, in case that ain’t clear.”

Indrid laughs, “I find it hard to believe my performance on the living room floor was worthy of such an, ah, extreme desire on your part.”

“Don’t tell me you been so sheltered in that temple you think a little blowjob is all there is to good sex?”

“Of course not. I simply meant that if you are looking for someone to service you that way, there are many who could do it better.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I don’t want some other fella. I want _you_.” His hand squeezes the seers’ knee, staying put when he tries jostling it free.

“You...you are serious.” Indrid scoots backwards, heart beating like the wings of a trapped moth. Duck follows, bracketing Indrid with his hands no matter how he moves. 

“Yep. I meant what I said about you drivin me wild. And sure, maybe you ain’t had much experience. All the better, far as I’m concerned. Means I get to break you in, teach you how to do things the way I like ‘em, make you my perfect little live-in toy.” He surges forward, kissing Indrid hard and, serendipitously, leaving his belly right where Indrid can drive his knee into it. 

“Fuck” the hero hisses as Indrid rolls off the couch and dashes for the back door. He slows, partly because he’s worried he actually hurt Duck and because he’s not about to go back into the rain for the sake of the game. Before he can turn and check heavy footsteps catch up to him. He slams into the wall with a great deal of noise and very little pain. Duck traps his wrists behind his back in one hand, keeps his face against the green boards with a fist in his hair. 

“Unhand me _this instant_.”

“No can do, sugar. You’re stayin right here.” Duck growls. 

“I am the Oracle, chosen by the gods themselves, revered among mortals not some, some, plaything for a selfish demigod!” Indrid snarls, twisting his body and glaring over his shoulder. 

“Oh yeah? Then where’s your temple, where’s all the high and mighty folks beggin for your help?”

“They, it’s-’

“Last I heard, Oracle, your gods forsaked you, tossed you out into the mud and rain with the rest of us. You said yourself you got nowhere to go, ain’t that right?”

Indrid averts his eyes, “yes.”

“So it seems to me, if someone offers you a new place in the world, you oughta be grateful, not knee him in the damn stomach.” He shoves more body weight against Indrid, and the seer moans. 

Duck laughs in his ear, grinds his cock against his ass, “I fuckin knew it. You _like_ when I talk like that. You like the fact I could snap you like a fuckin twig.”

Indrid nods, biting his lip with a whine, and Duck laughs again, yanking him away from the wall to pull him stumbling and thrashing down the hall to the bedroom. When they reach the bed, he forces Indrid to stare at its plaid-covered expanse. 

“See this? _This_ is your temple now. You don’t got any supplicants anymore. No gods either.” He shoves Indrid down on his back, barely letting him bounce before straddling him. “I’m the only one you answer to, the only one you serve, and I ain’t ever, _ever_ gonna forsake you.”

A sob escapes him, as unexpected and jarring as the first thunderclap of a storm. 

“‘Drid?” Duck takes his own weight, cups his cheek, “sugar, do we need to stop?”

“No, nono, I, I would have said ‘Beacon’ like we agreed.”

“But you’re cryin’.”

“They are not unhappy tears. They are, hmmm” he sniffles, “cathartic, that is the word. It feels wonderful to let go, to pretend I am powerless. And to know you meant those last few words.”

Confusion on Duck’s face fades to understanding and a tender smile, “Yeah, I did. No matter what else happens, you’ll always have me.”

“Always” Indrid echos, reaching up to caress his cheek, “are you alright to continue? If the tears are too much, we could try something else.”

“Yeah, I’m okay to keep goin. And I even got an idea. Ready?”

Indrid nods. Duck’s hands stay on his face, keep him from hiding his tears in the pillows. 

“Aw, hey now, don’t cry sugar. I’ll be good to you, I promise. Just wanna bury my cock in this cute little ass now and then.”

“I f-forsaw this outcome but, but I did not think it would come to pass. I, I thought I could offer you something else.”

“Hate to break it to you, darlin, but I know for a fact they don’t teach seers anythin useful that ain’t related to visions. Naw, now you don’t have anythin to offer me but two warm holes.”

Indrid moans, covers his mouth at the shameful volume of the noise. 

“Mmm, okay, those noises are pretty damn nice too. Let’s see if you can make more of ‘em” he undoes the robe, roughly pulls it free and throws it to the floor, leaving Indrid exhilaratingly exposed. 

“N-no, no I am supposed to serve the gods, the noblest of mortals not, not give in to such _base_ desires.”

“What’s wrong with base desires?” Duck corners him with his gaze. 

“I...seers are not supposed to indulge in them! No matter how, how much they want to, or how often a certain hero enters their dreams.” He gives a final, useless shove at Ducks shoulder.

“That your way of sayin you wanna indulge in ‘em?” He sits up to strip his shirt, dropping down to pin Indrid with an arm across his upper chest when he tries to rise. 

“It does not matter what I want, only what I am.”

“Well then, I got good news: you’re my new cockslevee, so you’re free to act like one.”

Indrid summons an imperious huff that dies to a whimper as Duck unbuttons his pants. 

“But I _shouldn’t_ ” Gods, he wants that cock so bad if Duck doesn’t fuck him soon he will turn the tables and tackle him. 

“And I shouldn’t fuck a virginal Oracle into the bed while he cries, but here we are.” He works the plug free, Indrid twitching his hips as it goes. When he lines his cock up he stops, burning eyes studying Indrids’ face. The seer whines, fighting with gravity in hopes he can slide up onto the waiting head. 

“Look at me sugar. Look me dead in the eye and tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. Hand to the gods."

They lock eyes. Behind the wave of lust and power is an endless spring of affection, and Indrid feels so safe, so very safe and loved that tears well up again.

“More. Please.” He whimpers. 

Duck grins, triumphant, “Yeah, that’s what I fuckin thought.”

He’s not expecting Duck to shove in all at once, so his yelp and resulting thrashing are genuine. A growl as Duck brings their faces level, teeth nipping at Indrid’s ear, “Darlin, I’m gonna start gentle on account of it bein’ your first time, but if you keep squealin and squirmin like that it’s gonna be hard to restrain myself.

“I’m sorry” Indrid squeaks, blushing at the obscene sounds of a wet cock slowly thrusting in and out of his ass. His hands are clutched in front of him out of fear of placing them wrong. Duck notices, guides one to his shoulder and the other to his back.

“There now, ain’t that more comfortable?”

“Yes. Oh, _gods_ that feels good.” He tilts his hips, an invitation that Duck accepts with relish, setting a steady, firm pace as his lips play across every inch of Indrids’ face and neck. Indrid’s own cock aches, trapped between their bodies but not getting quite enough friction to cum. 

“Fuck” Duck groans, “knew you’d be fuckin perfect for this, knew you were wasted stuck out there in that temple. Gods shoulda given you to me instead.”

“I amAHnn, beginning to wish they had.”

“That’s more like it. Know you’re figurin out your place.”

“Under you?’

Duck cackles, head resting in the crook of Indrid’s neck, “Nice one, sugar.”

“Apologies, I could not resist.” Indrid kisses his temple, hoping he has not accidentally ruined things. 

A swat to his thigh wipes that thought away. 

“AH! W-what happened to being gentle?”

“Said I’d be gentle to start, not to finish. I like it rough, sooner you learn that the better.” Two more swats, the second one hard enough that Indrid tucks his legs inward, feet flat on the bed, trying to escape. 

“Nice try” Duck strikes the newly exposed part of his thighs, “fuckyes, your ass feels even better when I do that.”

“I can, can tighten it on demand, you don’tAHgods.” 

“Seems to me you like it” Duck tilts his head toward Indrids’ cock, slick with pre-cum, “better do it a few more times to be sure.”

A few more turns out to mean several dozen, delivered in time with his cock driving to the hilt. Indrid cums halfway through the barrage, surprising them both. Duck laughs, smug, and dips down to lick away droplets of cum from Indrid’s chest.

“Turns out if I’m rough with you, can get you off without ever touchin your cock. Good to know.”

Indrid’s retort catches in his throat as Duck drives into him, laugh morphing into a possessive, feral moan as he holds the seer down and cums deep. 

His legs tremble as Duck pulls out with a grunt, sweat dripping down his neck, highlighting the lines of muscle that Indrids’ mouth longs to taste. He wipes sweat from his face, finds tears in the mix. 

“You did real good, sugar.” Duck trails fingers up and down Indrids throat, “think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

“I do as well.”

Duck cracks his neck, stretches his arms, “Good. Now, roll over and put your ass in the air. Wanna see just how quick a study you are.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid falls into his new place in the world with relative ease. Whatever Duck orders, he gives without delay or resistance. His mind, so used to churning with futures (delayed though they may be), thrums with only one thought: how to best please Duck. He kneels or bends, spreads his legs and opens his jaw over and over. The hero, unencumbered by refractory periods thanks to his powers, tidies the house and starts dinner preparations in between fucking Indrid senseless. 

It’s heavenly. The stinging skin on his ass and thighs, his sore jaw, his aching legs, Duck’s voice calling him all manner of names as he takes him without mercy, all of it blankets his mind and body in pleasure. It’s as if he’s floating in some alien sky, his being peaceful and alight with sensations all at once. 

One might say he’d follow Duck to the ends of the world if that meant the possibility of a repeat performance. But one such adventure is enough for this lifetime, thank you very much. Besides, it is not needed. The love that governs Duck’s decisions as he dominates him, that let’s Indrid float free and relaxed in his care, is the same love that drove the hero to the underworld. It’s the reason Indrid is here at all, able to feel fingers and inhale the scent of sweat and sex. And so he will indulge to the fullest, glut himself on pain and pleasure and come down to find that same love awaiting him. 

The trouble is, the haze of contentment in his mind makes him sluggish. He’s kneeling between Ducks legs as the hero sits on the couch. His nose presses into Duck’s naval, spit seeps past his lips where they encircle the base of the heroes cock. Duck instructed him through it, held his head in place until he relaxed, gave the weight and control of it over to the man above him, cooed sweet filth to him as his jaw slackened and the head of his cock stopped just shy of his throat. The hero thoughtfully chose a shorter cock for the endeavor, promising Indrid they’d have plenty of time to train his throat to accept a long-overdue fucking. 

Breathing requires more focus like this, his attention to that task heightening the meditative state of it all. 

This is broken as Duck wrenches his head backwards, Indrid gulping down air as he casts a confused stare at the other man. 

“What part of ‘start suckin’ was unclear?” The human demands through grit teeth. 

“I, I did not hear you.”

“Likely story. And here you were doin’ so well.” Duck thuds to his knees, throwing Indrid sideways and trapping him on his arms and knees, “guess I am gonna have to bring out the big guns. So to speak.”

He twists the ring. While his eyes close in concentration, Indrids widen. The cock hanging between those strong thighs lengthens and thickens until it’s larger than anything Indrid’s ever taken. _Much_ larger. 

The sleep pants he’s been permitted hit his knees. As Duck slicks lube along his shaft, a hint of fear knocks on the wall of pure desire surrounding Indrid’s mind. He knows he is in no real danger, that he could stop this all with a word, but he leans into the fear to hold onto the role of the virginal Oracle. 

“Duck, please, I, I will not make the same error again, please, give me another chance-”

“Nope.” Duck’s voice is gruff. When he presses the head of his cock against Indrid’s already sensitive ass, the seer crawls away from the intrusion on instinct. Or he would, if Duck’s hands didn’t immediately grab his hips, “don’t even fuckin think about it.”

“ _Please_ , it will be too much, I will not be able to take it.”

Duck slaps his ass once, hard, “Oughta know by now I decide what you take and when.”

“I, I want to take it but it is too much, I do not want to disappoint youAHnn” He bites his lip as the head presses into him, digs his nails into the weave of the rug. 

The hero smooths a hand down his tensing back, “Darlin, you couldn’t disappoint me if you tried.”

“Oh gods, oh, oh, goodness AHahhaAAAnnnn” he rests his forehead on his hands, ordering any part of his body that will listen to relax as the cock stretches him open. His nerves scream at the intrusion, though it stays a scream of ecstasy, not agony. 

“Lookit you” Duck purrs, “took the whole thing.”

“If y-you give me a moment to adjust I-FUCK! Gods, Duck, please, gentle, I beg of you-” he loses the rest of his plea in a scream. 

A calloused hand clamps over his mouth, “Hush up. You’re my toy, I get to use you as hard as I want.”

Indrid moans and pleads into his palm until it traps another scream; he’s not in pain, far from it. But the sensation is all-encompassing, as if Duck is filling him from the inside out, will break him into a million blissed-out pieces with the force of his thrusts. 

“Fuck, you should see yourself sugar, cute ass fuckin impaled on my dick, gods, you were useless as anythin but a cocksleeve. Fuck” the heros voice is raw, “gonna cum so deep you feel me for weeks. And if I’m feelin magnanimous, I’ll only cum with this cock in your ass once.”

Indrid whimpers, tears pricking his eyes, at the thought of this onslaught that rides the line between pleasure and pain lasting into the night. His cock bounces weakly in the air, hard in spirit but stymied by the limits of his physiology. 

“Fuck, that’s it, take it, take it fuckin hard. You’re allllll mine darlin and don;t you ever forget it--ohfuckyeah, c'mon” the thrusts sharpen as they speed up, “c'mon sweet thing, take it like it’s all you’re good for, yeah, fucking _yes_.” 

It’s a pathetic, garbled noise that leaves Indrid as his boyfriend empties into him. He takes his sweet time withdrawing, groping Indrid’s ass whenever he squeaks from sensitivity. Then he’s guided upright, his back to Duck’s chest. 

“You ready to be done, ‘Drid?”

“Mhmmm” Indrid nods. At least he thinks he does. Duck holds him a moment, nuzzling his hair and murmuring “love you.” Then he gingerly picks him up and carries him to the bedroom. 

The first reminder of reality hits the moment Indrid makes contact with the bed.

“May I, ah, I need ice...butt ice.”

Duck is gone and back so fast the ice box thuds shut after his return. 

“Shit, it’s real red and there’s a few bruises.”

“That’s perfect. Lemme” he flops his hand back until Duck gives him the wrapped ice block, positions it on the sore skin with a sigh. 

“Do you, uh, want me to stay and hold you? Or should I give you space?”

“Space, please. Been so much touch I need, need some time for my skin to become my own.”

Duck kisses his head and departs with a reminder that Indrid can come get him not matter what. He lays there, breathing in for four and out for five, until the storm rattling the windows moves from background noise to an urgent, loud patter. His body cooperates long enough for him to use the bathroom and rinse himself in the tub. Once he gets his robe on, he flops right back down onto the bed. 

“You need to rest more?” Duck peers into the room.

“No. Or, well, yes, but I no longer wish to do so alone.”

“In that case, I’ll be right back.”

The hero returns with a small bed-tray, laying it across Indrids lap once he sits up against the headboard. It’s stacked with sweets and slices of fruit, along with a cheese and jam sandwich (Indrid confided in Duck that this was his go-to comfort food) and a glass of bubbly peach juice. 

“Pie should be ready soon” Duck grabs a small jar of muscle rub and a soothing salve for the bruises dotting Indrid’s body. As the seer eats Duck tells him about the latest letters from Jane, his sister who lives further south. He tends to every sore muscle, each mark, as if performing a sacred rite. 

The pie is so fragrant Indrid could eat the air, though he’s just as happy to let Duck feed a slice to him in forkfuls. They trade “I love yous” across the tray until the sun sets, at which point the hero clears away dishes and locks up the house. 

“Is there anything you need, my sweet?”

“Nope, uh, all I wanted from this afternoon was to make sure you were okay.”

Indrid cocks his head, “We did something very intense today. You cared for me magnificently before, during, and after. If there is anything you need to feel cared for in return, you know you can ask, right?”

Duck blushes, “Wouldn’t turn down bein’ cuddled.”

The seer opens his arms and Duck crawls into them, sighing happily as Indrid wraps himself around him. 

There are so many unknowns in the world, even when one has foresight. Indrid understands this much: he belongs here, in Duck’s arms. And Duck belongs in his.


	12. When the Chips are Down

A knock rouses Joseph from the very important business of being sound asleep, face down in his notes. Odd, people don’t usually come to the back door. 

Waiting for him on the step is a man in blue-white robes emblazoned with dozens of silver stars.

“Are you, by chance, a member of the Scholars of the Starry Pass?” He prays he hasn’t mixed up their colors with someone else’s. 

“I am indeed, god of curiosity. We received word that you were in search of certain relics, and may have even located some. You know, of course, that we possess one ourselves.”

“I do” he nods, excitement bubbling in his stomach, “is it...something we can borrow? We only need it for a brief ceremony, then I promise it will be returned?”

The man smiles, “We would be honored to aid the gods in their endeavors. In fact, we have prepared the other elements of the ritual to awaken the Great Mother. If you bring the relics to the gate of the gods, we will proceed posthaste.”

“We’re still missing-”

The man shushes him, leans in close, “it does not matter if you have all of them, only a plurality. We have records of their creation and use in our library found nowhere else. Which we will give you ample time to read when all is said and done.”

“This, this is incredible! This is wonderful I, I need to get Barclay at once.” He dashes back into the kitchen, trying to collect himself and the necessary items simultaneously, “just, um, just give me about a half hour, and then I’ll be able to meet you at the gate. 

The scholar bows, leaving Joseph to run about the Lodge in a state of elation that alarms those who’ve never witnessed the god of curiosity in the throes of a successful research project. 

Precisely a half-hour later he, Barclay, Dani, Aubrey, and Indrid arrive at the gate (Duck had work as a forest steward, and Joseph feels like the hero has more than done his part in helping them and deserves a day to do the work he enjoys) Mount Kepler disappearing into the sky above them. Waiting for them are two dozen figures in those same star-sown robes. One, his robe decorated with additional swirls, steps forward to meet them. 

“It is an honor to meet your graces. I am called the Eye, the head of our order of scholars. If you will bring the relics this way, the staff is already in place.” He leads them to where an ornately carved staff of bone-white wood is jammed upright into the dirt. The Eye points to a smooth disc of silver crystal, “if you will set the stone there, we will get everything in position.”

Joseph kneels in the grass, sets the Stone on its’ miniature stage. To expedite things, he produces the remaining relics, laying them in a neat row to his right. 

“Stone, Sash, Oculus, right, all we need is…” he turns just as Indrid backs away from the group.

“This is a bad idea.”

“Indrid, please” Joseph stands, holding out a reassuring hand, “we need the bell for this to work.”

The Eye turns, “Bell?”

“It’s our item from the land of the dead, without it we won’t have enough relics.”

“The spell requires no such thing.”

Joseph has just enough time to register Indrid’s fear and his own confusion before his arms twist behind his back and he’s dragged away from the others. 

Two flashes of power, one as Aubrey transports Indrid from the clearing and the other as the air around Barclay crackles. 

“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but if you don’t let go of him right fucking now-”

Cold, unfeeling steel at this throat. 

“Your orders have no power here, god of the hearth. Should any of you attempt to disrupt us, we will Joseph. Yes” the Eye grins, “we have known of his mortality from the very beginning. And believe me when I say that his death will be final. No one will be able to escape the land of the dead. Not when _we_ remake the world.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Just North of Kepler, the Quell gate rattles, bracing for what’s to come the way a shoreline braces for a storm. An avian shape zips through the cracks, followed shortly by another, their game of chase spinning up into the sky. 

Duck Newton feels the first tremor via the trunk of the tree he’s tending. When it grows rather than abates, he groans.

“What kind of god nonsense is goin on now?”

“ _Duck Newton_ ”

“Minerva, I’m kinda busy, can you make this quick?” It’s strange, talking aloud to a voice that’s only in his head, but he prefers it to the alternative, which just feels like thinking very hard hoping she hears him. 

“ _You must evacuate the city. There is no time to waste_.”

“Do we need to go over the whole ‘not even sure if this is really you’ problem again?”

“ _I cannot prove to you that I am not an imposter. And I know your faith in me remains shaken. I am not asking this of you as your patron; I am asking you because you are one of the few who I trust to do what is right_.”

In their years of push and pull, Duck learned many of Minerva’s moods, learned when she was saying something to get Duck to do what she wanted and when she was without pretense. When she was just trying to tell him something. In the eerily quiet clearing, the sincerity in her voice rings true. 

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

“ _Thank-_ ” the connection between them stutters out. Duck doesn’t have time to dwell on it, and turns to begin his run towards town. Then he connects with a body that was definitely not there before. 

“Owfuck, what the--’Drid?”

“Oh thank the gods” Indrid hugs him, “I thought Aubrey just teleported me at random. Duck, they were tricked, we all were, the relics are going to be used to destroy Sylvain.”

“That’s….real fuckin bad.”

“It gets worse; we have two hours to evacuate the city before it is consumed by a sinkhole. I, I think it has something to do with the Quell’s reaction to what is about to happen.” Indrid pulls him down the trail, and soon they’re both running as if every monster on the continent was at their heels. 

“I know a few folks who help us get everyone out, but I got no fuckin idea how we’re gonna evacuate the city or even howoof” He collides with Indrid’s arm, which is better than colliding with the four minotaurs that just barreled out of the trees. The one at the rear of the herd stops, approaching the two men instead. Duck recognizes her as one of Billy’s parents. 

“If you two are looking to flee whatever is causing these earthquakes, a ride on our backs would be far fleeter than your own feet.”

“Thanks for the offer but, uh, the whole demigod/hero thing means I gotta try gettin everyone out of Kepler before I can run myself. Gonna use the run over there to figure out where the fuck we’re even gonna tell ‘em to go.”

The minotaur cocks her massive head, “Why not Huntington? There have been changes of late. It turns out the three mortal men you aided are the rightful heirs. The old king yielded to them without a fight.”

“Being threatened by three gods will do that.” Indrid murmurs. 

“Good to know, and that’s a pretty easy route. Guess, uh, guess we better get on it if the two of us want a fightin chance at savin’ everyone.”

The minotaur turns to her three companions, who nod.

“Our numbers in these woods are greater than many know. And our kind remember those who aided us.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Not to, like, sound like Woodbridge, but saying you can remake the world is pretty, um, blasphemy-y?” 

The Eye shakes his head, “On the contrary, goddess of flame, it is a sacred act in which we restore the old gods as best we can.”

“The Colianics? I hate to break it to you, but Sylvain transformed them a long, long, long time ago.” Barclays’ eyes never leave Joseph.

“She did. And the Stone, Oculus, Goblet, and Sash captured remnants of that foolish decision. But while all Colianics were transformed, many held some memories for a time. Some, with the aid of friendly Sylphs, were able to make notes of their history before they fully forgot themselves.” The Eye chuckles, “no doubt the Sylphs thought they were doing their fellow beings a kindness. Even then their emotions held in them the seeds of their own destruction.”

“Watch it” Barclay growls. 

“Your Thacker found one such text--though your insistence about that bell suggests time or translation brought about errors in the information--but there were many more, gathered and kept safe in our city for generations. Our order formed from the first mortals to find the Colianic histories. They were wise, they understood that humans and Sylphs are volatile creatures, and that the survival of the world depends on their eradication. And so, generation upon generation, members of our order channeled any magical abilities or artifacts in their possession into the staff, until it contained the power equal to that of a deity. For a time we simply sowed discontent; in the face of another god we would send false messages, or impede mortal’s ability communicate with their deities.”

“You’re why mortals keep thinking the gods abandon them?” Dani clenches her fists. 

“To a point. But your pantheon was already growing disinterested in truly aiding mortals by the time we mastered the staff. When it was at it’s full power, the plan was to launch and attack on the city of the gods. Had the Oracle not interfered, it would have done exactly that. The incident taught us two things; one was that we must be rid of the Oracle. And the hero who so loyally attended to him, for some of our order believed Minerva’s chosen posed a risk to us.. Easily done: we used the pool in his temple to transform him and tell him to flee to the caves. Then we sent his hero in after him; death would take care of one, grief the other.”

Flashes of Duck’s horrified face as Indrid’s drained of life before him. Joseph snarls, wrenches one arm free from his captors before the knife tip pricks under his chin. 

“I see your game now, you fucking sadists. Let me guess: you knew you needed the relics to wreck more pain one those who never harmed you, and were all too happy to let us run the risks of acquiring them for you.”

“Correct. Tell me, god of inquiry, if Sylvain is more powerful than any other deity, what could destroy her?”

For his entire existence, the answer was “nothing.” She was the constant, and even if she was distant she was there, feeding life into the world. Now he takes in the relics on the ground, arranged in an arcane pattern around the staff.

“Her own power. Stored in the relics, amplified and intensified by the weapon you poured centuries of power into.”

The Eye raises his brow grinning, “You do not seem excited by your new discovery.”

“I wonder why.” He snaps.

“You should enjoy it. It is the last one you will ever make.”

Joseph is about to tell him to release him so he can demonstrate some previous discoveries regarding hand to hand combat when screeching fills the air. A magpie hits the ground between Aubrey and Barclay, morphing into Ned. The god covers his head as a jackdaw divebombs him, it’s pecking at his shoulders and back turning into a burly figure trying to pull Ned over. 

“Give that back you bloody trickster!”

“No, I stole it fair and square!”

“I stole it first!”

Two of their enemies move forward, and the shimmer of Barclay throwing a protective field around the squabbling gods makes them look up.

“I feel as though we have missed a great deal.”

“Whichever of you has that freaking Goblet, do not give it to them!” Aubrey throws up her hands, clearly at the limit of her patience. 

“Save your resistance, gods of crime. We do not need it to complete the spell.” The Eye tsks his tongue, “This is why your pantheon must fall and ours must rise. We are free of such antisocial misbehavior”

“You’re about to _kill a bunch of people_!” Barclay’s fingers spark and the blade pricks Joseph’s skin. 

“For the greater good.”

“Bu--wh--this is the greater good” the god sweeps his arm towards the city, “this world, the beings who live here, they’re worth fighting for, worth improving, worth living in not wiping clean so you can create some unfeeling place that you think is utopia but sucks for everyone else! And” he lowers his arm, then his head, “and yeah, the pantheon has fucked up. I’ve fucked up. We’ve missed things, ignored them, treated mortals or each other with less respect than they deserve. We exist to be like mortals. To feel, to fuck up, to try to be better because we know we’ll always be a bit imperfect. If you don’t understand that, then you’re no more fit to rule a world than we are.”

Joseph loves Barclay, has loved him over centuries, from afar and from the same bed. He has never loved him more than he does this instant.

“Let us begin.”

He fights and struggles, but they simply send more acolytes to restrain him. There’s a dull hum, and then the staff blazes to life. Rocks the size of homes tumble from the mountainside as the beam disappears into the clouds to bore into the heart of Sylvain. 

The hum and crack is answered by a boom and the rush of violent wind. For miles around, red light bursts sporadically from the ground, ripping the mantle of the world as the Quell makes herself known.

The Eye shrugs, “She comes to defend her love. A pity, in her anger she is about to make our work much, much easier.”

\--------------------------------------------------

Kepler is well on its way to emptiness (Mama leading the effort alongside the Minotaurs) when the white beam pierces the sky and the Quell begins breaking free. 

“It is not going to end well for our friends, Duck. They are at the heart of this and, if what remains of my visions is accurate, are helpless to stop it.”

“We have to help them, we can’t just leave ‘em to fight this alone.”

“Do you have any ideas on how to get us there?” It’s not dismissive, Indrid is genuinely confused. Loathe as he is to admit it, Duck feels the exact same way. 

“Allow me.”

“HOLYFUCK!” Duck practically jumps into Indrid’s arms in surprise. Behind them looms a dark, winged shape.

“You came to help us?” Indrid asks, disbelief lingering in his tone.

His patron cups the seer’s face in spindly fingers, “Indeed. I left you without my aid for too long, little one. I resigned myself to watching the futures unfold, forgetting my own part in them. From here on out, I will be as much at your service as you are at mine. Now come” he holds a hand out to each of the men before him, “there is no time to waste.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Once initiated, the process cannot stop.” They shove Joseph back towards the others, Barclay instinctively drawing him into his arms. 

Indrid and Duck materialize, Indrid’s patron behind them, chirping in alarm when he sees the path of the beam. 

“We are too late” Patron and Oracle say as one. 

“Duck” Aubrey yells over the cacophony, “if this is the end, I want you to know that these jerks admitted to impersonating the gods! They’re who transformed Indrid, and they lied to you as Minerva so you would kill him and get you both out of the way!”

“Fuckin WHAT?” 

The rage is so indignant, so pure, that Joseph laughs. Only Duck would boil a mixture of betrayal, anger, and revelation down to such a pure essence. Indrid murmurs something to the hero, which assuages the fire in his eyes some, and instead he turns to kiss the seer. They make each other so happy, a sight Joseph will never tire of. 

They only have a few more moments together. It’s his fault, all his fault, that there will be no futures for them.

“Our love really did doom the world.” Tears streak his face as Barclay holds him. 

“No, blue eyes, it didn’t. This was their plan for years.”

“But I expedited it. I brought the relics, and all of you, right to them. And, and do you know what’s worse?” He meets Barclay’s eyes, “I’m not sure I regret it. Not when it meant seeing you one last time.”

His lover hugs him close as stone cracks and tumbles all around them. Through his tears, through the dust, he sees the meadow and woods beyond the mountain. A pack of Jackalopes spring across the shaking soil, fleeing the chaos that comes with the end of the world. 

He remembers the night he first saw those creatures. The night he first saw Barclay, how the world faded away the moment he caught sight of him, how there were no questions in his mind but “who are you?”

Questions. There’d been a question the instant before Barclay came into view. Something he meant to ask Aubrey. 

_“How were you able to make the Jackalope from nothing? Only Sylvain can make animals or mortals.”_

Centuries later, he knows the answer.

“Aubrey” he tears himself from Barclay’s hold, “Aubrey it’s you! You’re the fire of life!”

“Joseph, just because I’m, like, the goddess of fire doesn’t mean-”

“No, that’s not it. You’ve always been a bit stronger than the rest of us, always felt the separation from Sylvain more keenly. You can make life Aubrey, haven’t you ever wondered why?”

The goddess stares at him. Then her eyes begin to sparkle, “holy shit, you’re right! Okay, wait, that means I can stop them, yeah?” She points at the scholars, all kneeling before the column of light. 

“It’s worth a try! Indrid! The bell, it’s not one of theirs! I think it might bring the Quell’s power to the equation!”

The seer places the bell in Aubrey’s right hand. 

“Ned, Boyd, one of you give her the Goblet! It has some of Sylvain’s power, and we need as much as we can get.”

Wisps of red rage whip through the air as Ned sets the Goblet in the goddess’s left hand. Dani raises a barrier spell around the, protecting them from the goddess of death’s grief and anger.

“Anyone who’s still a deity, try to link to Aubrey in some way.”

Ned and Boyd stand side by side, one hand each on Aubrey’s left shoulder. Barclay and Dani do the same on her right. Indrid’s patron steps behind them, stretching out his black wings to make a half circle around the group. 

“What now babe?”

“Um, I think, um, hmmm”

“How about I try to stop the spell.?”

“It’s as good a plan as any.” Joseph nods and the gods shut their eyes in concentration, leaving him, Duck, and Indrid alone with blinding light, raging storm, and crumbling mountain. 

For a horrible, eternity of a moment, nothing happens. Then the light from the staff flickers like a dying lamp, recovers, flickers again. Then it grows steadily dimmer, until only the head of the staff emits the glow. 

“Bet I could take it out with Beacon.” Duck whispers to him, “get some use outta him finally.”

“It’s up to you. It could very well work, given he’s a godly weapon, but you might get hurt.”

The scholars, having noticed the dwindling light, notice the two of them talking, and close around the staff. Several charge Duck, but don’t reach him, falling unconscious on the ground. He and Joseph glance to the right, where Indrid’s arm is extended. He blinks at the limb, then shrugs and flicks his fingers. The remaining opponents collapses. The seer turns to his patron, who opens his eyes. Then he winks.

“I guess he was serious about helpin ‘Drid more. Whelp, here goes nothin.” 

It takes a count of ten for the hero to charge and swing the weapon into the white wood. There’s a crack, so loud he wonders if the world is splitting in two, as the hero flies backwards.   
Time stops. For an instant, he assumes it’s a trick of his mind. But no, there’s no breeze, no ambient sound, and Duck remains mid-fall. 

A warm, orange light spills from the top of the mountain, blinding him. And then she’s there, standing in the grass and smiling at him. 

Sylvain

“Hello, Joseph.” She waves her hand and his friends unfreeze, the goddess waiting until Indrid runs to his hero and guides him safely on the ground before bringing Duck into the pool of frozen time. 

Barclay joins Joseph, the pair united in silence. Sylvain studies them a moment, and then embraces them.

“You have never needed my blessing to love one another. I will give it all the same. More to the point, I will be having a very long conversation with other members of the pantheon regarding their attempts to punish you.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” Joseph whispers, “I broke the gate. I gave this twisted order the relics and they nearly destroyed you and I’m sorry, so, so very sorry.”

She released Barclay in favor of embracing Joseph fully, “The Colianics, and their legacy, were not your doing, they were mine. All you did was fall in love. Believe me, I understand.” She smiles as the red clouds and light disappear, leaving behind only The Quell in her human form. 

“And you” Sylvain cups Barclay’s cheek, “you understood that gods were not meant to be distant, authoritarian things. You made a home in the world you loved, and I am so very proud of you for it.”

Tears appear in Barclays eyes. Joseph soothes them away, kissing his brow, as Sylvain and The Quell both approach Aubrey and Dani. 

“I ought to have explained things in the beginning, but naively I hoped that it would never be necessary. Aubrey, when you came into being I saw so much of myself in you. I made the choice to imbue you with my pure, undiluted and unshaped power, because I needed a failsafe.”

“We had no proof that others would not one day true to destroy her as the Colianics did.” The Quell holds Sylvain’s hand, “but if part of her essence lived on in another god, even if the worst came to pass, the world could recover.”

“I felt confident in choosing you, Aubrey and, though I have not been able to watch as closely of late, I know you prove that you would have been up to the task. All the same, I should have told you the truth.”

“Yeah” Aubrey sniffles, beaming, “you kinda fucked up on that one that one.” 

Sylvain laughs, embraces her, and the cracks in the ground close up and disappear beneath blankets of flowers. 

The Quell turns her attention to Indrid’s patron, who nervously clicks his claws together. 

“Apologies my lady, but I do not regret helping Duck and Indrid escape your domain.”

The Quell notices the seer and demigod, who both tense under her gaze.

“My anger was the result of my fear that the impostors I heard word of had entered my realm and meant to me and my beloved harm. But there two were no such thing. They faced the challenges and triumphed. That means their freedom was fairly won.”

“Ohthankgoodness” Indrid exhales, hunching forward in relief. 

“Wait, thought you said what we did involved a whole bunch of loopholes?” Duck rubs his palms, still sore from the impact with the staff.

The Quell offers a blithe smile, “Who do you think built those loopholes in the first place?”

“So what happens now?” Barclay looks at the goddesses, then up at the damaged mountain.

“I will repair all the harm done today, though it may take time for many mortals to see gods as a genuine source of help once more. However, there is a change that has been needed for a long while. One I will neglect no more.” 

Joseph blinks. In the time that reaction takes, Mount Kepler disappears. In its’ place are the familiar buildings of his home city, spread out on flat ground among rich fields and garden.

Sylvain winks, “I think it’s time for the pantheon to become more down-to-earth, don’t you?”


End file.
